


We Will Not Be Torn Asunder

by authoressjean



Series: The Bonds of Brotherhood [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Big Brother Dean, Big Brother Michael, Brotherhood, Brotherly Love, Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester Use Their Words, Dean is Michael, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gabriel is Gabriel, Gen, Hurt Lucifer (Supernatural), Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Michael and Lucifer (Supernatural) are good siblings, Protective Bobby Singer, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Michael, Reincarnation, Sam is Lucifer, Season/Series 05, That is a tag I am DYING, WHO NEEDS CANON, don't mess with it, not me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-06-25 16:45:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 94,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19749718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/authoressjean/pseuds/authoressjean
Summary: "For you and I are brothers, and the bonds of brotherhood are not easily torn asunder."The door opens to the Cage to release Lucifer, except there's nothing in there. Only confetti and a trickster who's not really a trickster and has a hell of a story to tell. One that involves the love of a big brother willing to do anything to protect his little brother and keep him safe. Even if that means tearing him from his Grace and making him human in order to free him from Hell.Even if that means tearing his own Grace out to become human with him.With new memories pouring in fast, Dean and Sam are in a race to figure out who really flipped the switch on the apocalypse and how to stop it, pretending they're vessels when they're really just missing their Graces, and, oh yeah, trying to find their brotherhood that they both had a hand in ripping apart.That last one might not be the easiest, but it could mean the difference for who they are now, and who they used to be.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [umbralillium](https://archiveofourown.org/users/umbralillium/gifts).



> So I blame umbralillium and lissa_ann for this. Dani, Lissa, I love you both. Even as this fic continues to boil out of control. There's a shock.
> 
> This plot bunny bit hard and wouldn't let go, and is just one of many sitting on the burner, waiting to be done. (Ask Dani. She's literally seen the rest of them with her own eyeballs.) So. There will be more fic from me in the future, both fic I've already published elsewhere in order to put it on AO3, and new fic never before seen.
> 
> If you're here primarily for the Hobbit fic, fear not. There's some of that coming too. Just not right now.
> 
> Enough gibber-gabber. You're here to read a fic.

The only good thing about all of this, Dean thought for a half moment of calm insanity, was that he had Sam back. His little brother, the kid he’d raised, and he was standing beside Dean, clutching at his jacket like he was young and terrified, desperate for Dean to make things right. His little brother, not that bitch’s toy, not Heaven’s key piece to starting the apocalypse and, oh yeah, _letting Lucifer out_. Just his little brother.

Who seemed to be trying to step away from Dean, fear and panic in his eyes again, but it wasn’t aimed at the opening in the floor but at _Dean_ , and he seemed to not even realize that his fingers were clenched around Dean’s jacket.

“Sam,” Dean began, but Sam shook his head frantically.

“I, I can’t, I know, I know you’re here to, I know w-what I deserve, just, just, just-“

He wasn’t making a lick of sense. His eyes were blown and he was _shaking_ , and he still wasn’t letting go of Dean. His big brother senses kicked into overdrive as he placed his hands over Sam’s. “I’m here to get you out of here,” he said in as soft a tone as he could. The light was getting brighter and louder, and they had to go, _now_. “Sam, c’mon, we gotta go-“

“I’m sorry,” Sam said suddenly, and his eyes filled. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t, I didn’t know-“

“I know you didn’t, look we got played-“

“Please just make it quick-“

“Sam what the _hell_ -“

“Just, I’m sorry, please-“

“What the _fuck_ are you talking about?” Dean exclaimed. Because the light was almost flooding the entire room and Sam wasn’t budging, and any second, they were going to be met with a pissed off archangel.

Sam choked back a sob. “You, you said in your voicemail-“

Dean was getting a very _very_ bad feeling about what Sam was saying. And Sam still wasn’t moving towards the exit. “I said I was sorry and that we were still brothers. What do you mean ‘make it quick’? Because you can’t seriously mean-“

Sam stared, and tears began to run down his face. “No, no, you said I was a monster, you said, said there was no saving me, no going back.”

Zachariah. That _so_ dead sonuvabitch. Dean snarled. “I’m going to kill Zachariah when I see him next. He told me you’d need a ‘nudge’. I didn’t say any of that, and I’m sure as hell not going to _kill you_.”

Sam didn’t say anything for a minute. His fingers tightened underneath Dean’s hands. “You’re not?” he said in the smallest voice Dean had ever heard.

Dead. Deader than dead, that was Zachariah. “C’mon, we gotta go-“

The hole in the floor had nearly taken over the entire space, too wide to cross, and it quickly began to encroach on where they were standing. Sam seemed to have finally pulled himself out of the mindset that, fuck, Dean was going to _kill him_ , and he flinched from the blinding light. “Dean,” he said helplessly, and no, they were not going to die here. Not yet, not until Sam understood that Dean didn’t hate him, that Dean wanted them to break past what had divided them for the past year and make them _brothers_ again-

There was nowhere to go. Dean cursed and grabbed Sam, hauling him towards the wall. “Get down!” he yelled and crouched, curling himself around his brother.

“Dean, no!”

“Stay _down_!”

The light grew and the piercing sound cut through his eardrums. He winced, shut his eyes as tight as he could, and kept his arms wrapped around Sam.

A sudden popping sound made him jump, and he felt Sam jerk in his arms. But the high buzzing sound had disappeared, and when he dared to open his eyes, the light was gone, too. Something brushed against his ear and he flicked it away anxiously, only to frown at the brightly colored…confetti?

Dean looked up. And stared.

There was no archangel. There was no light, no noise. Instead, a banner hung in the middle of the room, suspended from nothing, with the word, _Congratulations!_ across it in big bold letters. Confetti continued to fountain from the hole in the ground.

As one Dean and Sam both said, “What the-?”

“Yeah, so. Guess it’s time to talk.”

Dean whirled around towards the chapel doors. There, standing and leaning in the corner of the room, was the trickster. “I gotta give it to my siblings,” he continued. “They cornered and played you two pretty well.”

It took a minute for his words to sink in. “Siblings?” Sam asked, sounding just as appalled as Dean felt. “You’re an _angel_?”

The trickster – _angel_ – shrugged. “Just a minor one. They call me Gabriel.”

Even as Dean tried to work past _that_ mental note – the trickster was Gabriel, a friggin’ archangel – the guy stepped into the room, unconcerned by the lack of a floor. “That’s sort of not the biggest concern right now. Truth is, I gotta get you two somewhere else and clean my mess up, and fast.”

“Your mess?” Dean asked, before his eyes caught the confetti still sprinkling down into the room. That did pretty much scream trickster. Or, well, archangel, he guessed.

He wasn’t sure how much more his head could take but he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to get a say in the matter.

“What did you do with Lucifer?” Sam asked suddenly. “If he’s not in Hell-“

“Okay, I need you both to zip it,” Gabriel said, and Dean suddenly felt his lips smack together, hard. He tried to open them but got nowhere fast. “The less they hear, the better. Where’s a safe place to go? No, you know what, I know _exactly_ where a safe place for you two yahoos is. Hold on tight. I don’t usually fly angel express anymore but I guess it’s time.”

He snapped his fingers and suddenly Dean found himself standing in the middle of Bobby’s living room. Beside him, Sam stumbled at the sudden transition, and Dean automatically caught him by his arm. Sam glanced at him, startled. Right. He definitely needed to talk to his little brother.

Except that wasn’t likely to happen anytime soon, not with Bobby jumping up from his seat once he caught sight of them both. “The hell-?”

“Hiya, Singer,” Gabriel said cheerfully. “So today has been educational for everyone all over the place and it ain’t over yet.”

The growl that Bobby gave was impressive. “I got a stake with your name on it,” he threatened.

As much as Dean would’ve typically encouraged it, that wasn’t going to happen today. Not if he wanted answers, which he definitely did. “Won’t work. He’s got wings.”

Bobby blinked, processed that, and pursed his lips. “Then I’ll get an angel blade. If you hurt either of these boys-“

“Relax. I just _saved_ them. Because trust me, Heaven was about to descend and take them both prisoner.” For the first time since he’d shown up, Gabriel’s face twisted into something unpleasant. “And that’s not something you want. It’s not something I’d wish on anybody, least of all these two.”

“Not that I don’t appreciate that, because I do,” Dean said, “but Sam’s right, where is-“

“Give me a minute to put up some wards,” Gabriel said, waving him off. “They’ll keep ears from hearing. And trust me, we don’t want anyone else hearing this. So don’t ask where he is or what happened until after I get back.”

He disappeared without any fluttering of wings. Dean stared at where he’d been, then slowly let out a breath it felt like he’d been holding for hours. The last few hours felt like a clusterfuck of emotions, and it didn’t seem like it was about to let up anytime soon. If they had a minute to breathe, he’d take it.

Right. Taking stock. Bobby was alive but looking at them now for an answer that they really didn’t have. Cas was who knew where. And Sam…

Sam was desperately trying to disappear into thin air just by hunching into himself more and more. Screw that.

“You okay?” Dean asked him. Sam bit his lip but gave a small nod. “You sure? She didn’t hurt you?”

“Didn’t give her a chance,” Sam admitted. “God Dean I should’ve, I should’ve known by the way she let me-“

“Hey, look, this wasn’t on you,” Dean insisted. Sam didn’t look convinced. “I’m telling you, Heaven had this planned alongside Hell. Heaven _wanted_ Lucifer out. They could’ve stopped you at any point but they didn’t. We both got played, Sammy.”

Sam shut his eyes tight at the nickname and looked as if he’d cry again, which, honestly, was the last thing Dean wanted right then. Bobby cleared his throat. “You’re both all right, then?”

“Far as I can tell.”

“Then come in and sit down, eat, get something to drink. Then you can both catch me up on what the hell’s going on before that stupid angel gets back.” He glanced at Sam who was now staring at the floor. “Don’t know when you last ate food,” he said gently, gentler than Dean had ever heard Bobby speak, “but if it was when I thought it was, you need somethin’ in your gut. C’mon, kid.”

Sam blinked a lot, doing his damnedest to fight tears. “Yeah, okay,” he said, voice breaking. He headed into the kitchen behind Bobby, and with a deep sigh Dean followed after.

They were alive. Everything else could come later.

Listening to Dean…hurt. Everything hurt, but Sam wasn’t about to point that out just then. For some reason, Dean wasn’t trying to gun him down, Bobby wasn’t throwing him outside to the cold morning. Lucifer was…not out. The trickster was really Gabriel. Ruby was dead. Lilith was finally toast. Heaven had manipulated them both. They were sitting at the kitchen table and poking at leftovers.

His head _really_ hurt.

“So this Zachariah, he told you he’d give Sam a ‘nudge’?” Bobby was saying. Sam tried to pull himself back to listen in. The leftover pot roast in front of him looked less than appealing. The carrots just looked sad. He forced himself to put some of it on a fork anyway.

“Yeah,” Dean said angrily. “Sonuvabitch sent Sam a fake voicemail from me. I tried to call Sam after I talked with you, tell him I wasn’t Dad, that we were still brothers. I frickin’ apologized and he never let it get to Sam.”

“Then what did you get?” Bobby asked, turning to Sam.

Million-dollar question. Sam bit his lip hard enough to hurt. “Not that,” he finally said. Thinking about the venom-filled words in Dean’s voice made his chest feel like it’d been caved in with a sledgehammer.

Dean gave him a calculated gaze. “Give me your phone,” he said and in a minute he had Sam’s phone in hand. Sam would’ve given him anything he wanted at that point, as long as he kept treating Sam like he was still a little brother. Like he still cared, still loved him.

He knew the instant that Dean got to the voicemail. His brother’s eyes went wide and round, his lips parting in shock. The next instant, his face clouded with rage. Sam shifted back in his chair without thinking, and Dean immediately reached out, his free hand wrapping firmly around Sam’s. It didn’t feel like he was trapped, though. It felt reassuring, comforting.

When he was done listening to it, Dean handed it over to Bobby, already waiting with his own hand out. Never once did he let go of Sam’s hand. “That wasn’t what I left you,” Dean said, voice trembling in anger. “I would _never_ have said that to you, even at my most pissed off. _Ever_.”

Beside him, Bobby cursed low and hard. “You don’t gut that angel first,” he said, “and I just might beat you to it.”

Something in Sam shifted yet again. Not quite back to what he’d call ‘all right’ but nowhere near the hollowness that had resided inside of him when he’d heard Dean’s voicemail. His world had been turned upside down at least three times so far in the past few hours, and his stomach was still jumping. The world looked as if it were shaking around him, vibrating deep under his skin.

It was only when Dean tightened his grasp that Sam realized it wasn’t the world shaking, it was him. “Sam,” Dean started, but he didn’t look like he knew what to say, only that he needed to say something. Because he was a big brother and that’s what he did.

Sam felt his eyes go hot. Even as Dean’s own eyes widened in horror, he managed to get his other hand up to cover his burning eyes. “Aw, kid,” he heard Bobby mutter, and then there was a firm hand on his shoulder. Like that was supposed to help any. He was starting to feel smothered by love, and after everything, the roller coaster of the last day, it was just about the last straw. He’d been forced to detox, gotten away somehow and told Bobby to kill him, knocked Bobby out, gotten into a drag-down fight with Dean and seriously hurt his brother, heard Dean utter the words that still haunted him from his dad, almost changed his mind until the voicemail that he could still hear, drained a possessed woman, killed Lilith, killed Ruby, let Lucifer out-

“Easy,” he heard Dean murmur, suddenly very close and right in his ear. At some point while he’d been lost in his memories, Dean had shuffled forward and caught Sam around the shoulders and hauled him in. He buried his face in Dean’s shoulder and let the tears flow freely.

“Easy,” Dean said again. “Easy, Sammy. We’re all right.”

“I was going to turn back,” Sam whispered miserably. “You’d called and I was going to turn back. Then I heard the voicemail and-“

Dean’s grip tightened to the point of pain. Bobby’s own hand was still there on his shoulder, a silent comfort. “I’m sorry,” Sam managed. “Both of you, I’m so sorry-“

“You ain’t gotta apologize to me,” Bobby said. “Not the first time one of you’s knocked me out. It’s not even the worst time. Your brother holds that distinction when he was about seventeen.”

“I didn’t _mean_ to,” Dean said petulantly. “You’re gonna keep bringing that up until your dying day.”

“You managed to hit me in both the front _and_ the back of my head. That’s special.”

Despite everything, Sam couldn’t help but snort through his tears. “You’re special,” Dean muttered, but his hand came up to palm the back of Sam’s head. “And I already told you that you don’t owe me an apology. We’re good. We’re good, Sammy. I promise. If you believe nothing else that I say, at least believe that.”

“You always were quick to forgive him.”

Sam wasn’t even surprised at the wry voice that came from the opposite corner of the kitchen. Dean, however, tensed around him. “How long have you been spying on us?” he demanded.

Gabriel gave a snort. “You have _no_ idea. House is warded to keep ears from hearing and unwanted angels from landing. Anyone you want in, I’ll put their name on the guest list.”

“Cas,” Dean said immediately. “Castiel. If he’s even still alive.”

“Well, he’s not dead, if that’s what you’re asking. I can still feel him. Where, I don’t know, but his celestial wavelength hasn’t been chopped short yet.”

Slowly Sam raised his head. His eyes were swollen and angry, and the throbbing in his head only felt magnified by the turmoil his body couldn’t contain. Gabriel’s gaze went from its usual snarky to almost sympathetic. “Should’ve said something about the brain pain, kiddo,” he said. He reached his hand out and touched Sam’s head before Sam could do anything. “That’s something I can fix.”

The pain immediately disappeared, and even his eyes didn’t feel as swollen. It gave him a greater measure of control back over his emotions that were still going everywhere. “Thank you,” he said, and discovered he meant it.

When he glanced at Dean, though, Dean look torn between glaring at Gabriel and worrying over Sam. “Why didn’t you tell me your head hurt?” he said, focusing on Sam.

_Because I still thought you wanted me dead. That you’d given up on me, that I’d gone past the limits of your love. Because I wasn’t sure if I was aching because of my power or the demon blood, and I didn’t want you to look at me like I was afraid you would._ He settled for shrugging.

There were days that Sam wasn’t sure Dean couldn’t read his mind. That or maybe he just put it all on his face. Either way, Dean’s features twisted in pain as if he’d been slapped but had halfway expected the hit.

“Think you owe us an explanation,” Bobby said, earning Sam’s gratitude. Dean still looked like he’d swallowed something vile.

Gabriel sighed. For the first time since Sam had ever known the trickster – sorry, archangel – he looked small and defeated. “Yeah. If you’ve got alcohol, bring it. I’m going to need it.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is absolutely my own ideas of the Mark and Amara and how Lucifer fell and what all really happened in Heaven. So this will be a little off from canon but I am still trying to adhere as best as possible to canon. *hand-wavy canon messing* So vague spoilers up through season 11.
> 
> Longish chapter, wasn't happy at any of my possible chapter break points so you get it all in one lump sum. A lot of explaining, a little brother angst, a huge dose of mucking with canon.

They settled in the living room. As soon as Bobby brought out a half-empty whiskey bottle, Gabriel grabbed it and poured a liberal amount in a glass. “Hey, leave that for the rest of us,” Dean complained, grabbing the bottle back while glaring at the trickster. Archangel. _Whatever_. “The hell do you need it for?”

Gabriel glared right back. “It’s about my family. What else makes _you_ want to drink?”

“Tricksters that aren’t tricksters for a start. Which, by the way, wanna explain _that_ one?”

Surprisingly, Dean didn’t get smote on the spot. And considering Sam had watched that happen a hundred or so times, it was clearly a great deal of restraint on Gabriel’s part.

Gabriel flinched. “Yeah, sorry about that. I was sort of hoping it would, well. Jog your memory. Get you to realize things, things that unfortunately were beyond even my control. If I could’ve undone Dean’s deal, I would’ve, but I couldn’t do anything.”

Sam scowled at him and resisted the urge to throw something at him. “Stay out of my head.”

“When you think that loud, it’s hard not to hear it, kid,” he countered. “Stop thinking things.”

Yeah, because that was something Sam was good at. If he could’ve turned his brain off at will, he would’ve done it years ago. The only thing it ever did was get him into trouble.

“So, are you a trickster or not?” Bobby asked.

“I am and I’m not,” Gabriel replied. He shrugged when Sam raised an eyebrow at him. “Well, it’s true. I’m Loki. He’s my true vessel. We worked out a deal in trade, which benefited him greatly whenever the Norse stopped worshiping him. He lost a lot of power there. When he had the opportunity to world-jump with the rest of his kind, he left me the body and hitched a ride out. Been all mine ever since. So I’ve got demigod power.”

“But you’re an archangel.” That, Sam just couldn’t wrap his head around. Yet for some reason, it…fit. It felt right. “You’re _Gabriel_ the messenger.”

“Lucifer’s brother,” Dean pointed out. “Who, by the way, is missing from the hole in the ground.”

“The Cage,” Gabriel told him. “He was in the Cage. A special subsection of Hell.”

“And now he’s not there.”

“Nope.” Gabriel grinned at Sam. “I got him out. A while ago, actually.”

“Okay, time out,” Bobby insisted. He grabbed the bottle from Dean and took a healthy swig, which made Gabriel mutter something about human germs. “You’re Gabriel the archangel. One who just decided to save Sam and Dean from Heaven’s grabby hands, even after you’ve made a point to torture both of them at various points of their lives.”

Gabriel made a face. “Okay, first of all, you came after _me_ first. Second, messing with Sam was _supposed_ to lead to something else, but it didn’t. And it’s been a long time since I was a merciful angel and not a vengeful trickster, okay? So I’ll readily admit that one was on me, and I’m sorry.”

“After you killed me what, a hundred times? And made him watch?”

“It’s okay,” Sam said, putting a hand up. Everyone looked at him in surprise. He flushed. “I mean, I wasn’t crazy about what happened but I got it. I mean. I understood what you were trying to teach me.” Not that he was ever going to be able let Dean go, because he couldn’t. But he’d fallen apart after Dean had gone to Hell, and his obsession with Lilith had nearly caused the end of the world. Still might have damned everyone. In his own trickster way, Gabriel had tried to help.

It just hadn’t come across with the clearest of directions. Then again, Sam probably still would’ve gone ahead and screwed everyone over.

No one looked more surprised by his statement than Gabriel. There was a moment where he looked like he was seeing something else for a moment, something he clearly longed for. His eyes seemed to look straight through Sam, and Sam shifted uncomfortably. Who knew what an archangel could see? Was he looking at Sam’s soul, seeing the darkness there? That wouldn’t explain the wistful gaze, though.

In an instant the faraway look was gone, and Gabriel cleared his throat. “Well. I appreciate it. Thanks.”

“Too freaking forgiving,” Dean grumbled. He didn’t seem too put out about it though. Just his usual irritation at Sam’s soft-hearted nature, which was honestly reassuring to see.

“Always was,” Gabriel said, which, again, how long had he been spying on them? “Not important,” came the response, and a wink when Sam glared at him. “Now, you’ve all been very patient about this, so I’m going to give you the answers that no one else seems willing to give you. You guys are like mushrooms – kept in the dark and fed nothing but bullsh-“

“Yeah, we get it,” Dean snapped. “How about the truth, then?”

Gabriel heaved a sigh and set his glass of whiskey down. “Crap,” he muttered. “I didn’t exactly plan on this part. Never looked ahead – that was always my problem. So! Let’s start with Lucifer.”

His eyes took on that faraway look again, and when he smiled, it was with a clear fondness. “Lucifer, also known as Heylel, was one of my favorite brothers. He was usually level-headed and definitely full of more mercy and kindness than anyone else. Also full of pride but being in Michael’s shadow, the little brother tendencies come out. You try being Michael’s kid brother and not come up with a complex of some sort. Michael did everything right, was Dad’s favorite, faithful little soldier, the very first angel Dad ever brought into being. I mean, it’s why you’re supposed to be Michael’s vessel.” And he looked straight at Dean.

Sam blinked. Wait, what? “Wait, what?” Dean sputtered. “I’m supposed to what?”

With a groan Gabriel hung his head. “They didn’t tell you? Well, awkward. Uh, yeah. You’re supposed to be Michael’s vessel. The human best suited to house him here on Earth.”

It didn’t take but a second for Sam to guess what was coming, and when he did, he froze. No. No, no, _please_ no-

Gabriel pursed his lips but nodded. “Yeah. And Sam’s supposed to be Lucifer’s.”

He couldn’t look at Dean. Wouldn’t. Couldn’t face the disappointment he knew was going to be there. Lucifer, the devil, Satan himself, and Sam was his _true vessel._

“Little brother to your big brother,” Gabriel continued. “That was the plan. Years of putting your bloodlines together just to make you their true vessels.” Then he smirked. “Well. That _was_ the plan.”

Sam’s head was starting to hurt again, and he finally dared to look at his brother. Dean looked poleaxed. “So when Zachariah said he wanted to start the apocalypse and have me finish it-“

“Oh, that little asswipe? Are you serious?” Gabriel yelled. “ _That’s_ who’s heading this whole operation? No wonder things are such a mess-“

“Zachariah said he wanted the world cleansed,” Dean interrupted. He was clenching his fist before releasing it. Clenching, releasing. It only made the sick feeling in Sam’s gut worse. “I’d figure that a brawl between two archangels would do just that.”

“Oh, it’d do more than that,” Gabriel said darkly. “There wouldn’t be much left of the Earth if Michael and Lucifer fought to the death. Which is what it would be: a death match.”

He seemed to deliberately pull himself back and take a deep breath. “Okay, let’s try this again. Let me take you back to when everything went to crap. Dad had just created Earth and all the people when the problems with the Darkness started.”

Bobby immediately turned towards his bookshelves, clearly scanning his books for possible lore, but Gabriel waved him off. “You won’t have anything on her, trust me.”

“Her?”

“Name’s Amara. She’s Dad’s sister.”

Sam began to speak again but Gabriel put his hands up. “I know this is probably rocking a lot of boats and worlds here but just let me keep going, okay? This is old news that I don’t particularly like going through. Trying to keep it short and sweet.

“So, Amara, the Darkness. She wanted to destroy Dad’s creations because she was jealous and, honestly, Dad wasn’t good with sharing. She started wiping out his creation – that’s you guys – and Dad had to do something. He had the four of us archangels trick her into an alternate universe that was more like a dimensional prison, then lock her away. Since it was a living prison, it needed a living lock. Dad made one up and handed it over to Michael to wear. Michael already had a million responsibilities, was already taxed to the max in trying to keep track of all the rest of the angels, but because Dad told him to, he was going to do it.”

“Lucifer stepped in,” Sam said without thinking. Dean glanced at him in surprise, almost as much surprise as Sam felt at his own words, but Gabriel just nodded.

“Why?” Dean finally asked, turning back to the angel. “Michael’s an archangel, he could’ve handled it.”

Gabriel just looked at Sam. He didn’t know _why_ he’d answered. It had just…seemed right. It had been intuitive, maybe. He tried to focus on his own words and find the answer everyone seemed to be waiting for. “I guess…little brother, right? It’s, uh, what I would’ve done,” he said softly. “I mean, whenever Dad shoved stuff at you and you were tired or sick or whatever, I offered to take on whatever he wanted you to do.”

It seemed like Dean had never really considered that. Maybe he’d never realized what Sam had done, which, honestly, Sam was fine with. He hadn’t done it to make Dean proud or get Dad’s attention. He’d done it to spare Dean from whatever their dad had wanted done.

“That’s what I always figured,” Gabriel said quietly. “But yeah. Heylel, what he was known as back then, he jumped in and said he’d take the Mark. Michael and Dad let him, though it created a point of contention between Mikey and Luce. I doubted he liked being upstaged by his little brother.”

“Maybe,” Dean said, giving Sam a side glance. “But more likely it had to do with Lucifer taking on what Michael considered his job. He couldn’t keep his little brother safe that way if he was the one doing the harder stuff.”

That…sounded right. And it left Sam with a warm feeling inside, along with reexamining the times Dean had insisted he do certain things. He’d always worked so hard to keep Sam safe. It drove Sam crazy more often than not, but right now, it was something he clung to. Proof that Dean still cared for him, loved him.

Who knew that having a sibling would give you insight on archangels?

Gabriel moved his gaze between the both of them, and there was a calculating gleam in his eyes that Sam didn’t like. “Whatever it is, no,” Dean said, apparently having caught the same look. He edged his chair a hair forward, putting himself even more between Gabriel and Sam. They would still have to talk about that last fight, and the past few months, but Sam still had his big brother. It was a gift he didn’t deserve but one he would take all the same.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah,” he said, waving his hand nonchalantly. The casualness of his statement made Sam want to check and make sure he wasn’t hosting cat ears and a tail or something. A bored trickster, archangel or not, was dangerous. “At any rate, that’s when Heylel started going by Lucifer – the Morningstar, the brightest star. At first, I thought it was a cool older sibling thing, something I could do later, and, let’s be honest, a little pretentious, but whatever. It turned out, though, it was him doing some wishful thinking that he could beat the Mark.”

The good feeling in his chest faded. “And he couldn’t,” Sam said dully. Because of course the little brother couldn’t manage a dark power that he’d hoped to control. Instead, he’d been controlled by it. Yeah, Sam didn’t know what that was like at all.

“Not for a lack of trying,” Dean insisted surprisingly. When Sam glanced at him, he met Dean’s determined gaze. He couldn’t hold the knowing look and turned away, face hot. “Right?”

“It took time,” Gabriel admitted. “But yeah. It started changing him. His thoughts grew dark, he snapped, he was just…twisted. He became someone that was the absolute opposite of who he’d been. It caused massive fights between my brothers and sisters. And all of a sudden, it was complete chaos. Lucifer was advocating for humanity to be wiped out, and he sounded just like Aunt Amara. And I mean, like, parroting her. Other angels agreed with him because some of them had never liked how much attention Daddy paid to humanity. That’s when the fight between him and Michael began.”

Silence fell on the room. “That’s when he fell?” Bobby asked when Gabriel didn’t continue. The archangel looked pained, and some part of Sam wanted to reach out and offer some sort of comfort. Even Dean looked uncomfortable with the look on Gabriel’s face.

When Gabriel spoke again, it was in a quiet voice that just sounded…wrong. “That’s the way the younger angels, like Castiel, would know it. The truth is that in order to stall a civil war, Dad had Michael pull Lucifer aside, like he was going to address Luce’s concerns. Then Dad created the Cage, a subsection of Hell, and when he had Lucifer in hand, he threw him in and told him to cool off.”

“A time out,” Dean said, and he sounded…relieved? “God gave Lucifer a time out.”

“A celestial sized one, but yeah. Dad couldn’t let the Mark settle into Hell, so he took it from Lucifer and gave it to a human. One who’d already been fighting some darkness on his own.”

Wait. _What_? “Because that’s not an absolutely horrible idea,” Dean snapped. “Take the Mark that corrupted an _archangel_ and give it a human-“

“The Mark of Cain,” Bobby said suddenly. Gabriel gave a tight nod. “It was a curse, but it was supposed to give Cain a long life and safety, right? So who has it now?”

“Cain,” Gabriel said. He raised an eyebrow when they all startled. “Long life means _long life._ I mean, if something had happened to him or the Mark, it would’ve come across angel radio which I am still tuned into. Trust me. He still has it. And so far, the world hasn’t ended.”

“No, that’s what I’m here to do,” Sam said bitterly. God, if he’d just killed Ruby when he’d had the chance, or even just listened to Dean-

“Hey,” Dean snapped, and Sam looked up. Dean looked as serious as Sam had ever seen him. “Don’t even with me. We got played. _We_ got played. We both thought killing Lilith was the way to go. We thought she was going to open the last seal, not that she was the last seal.”

Gabriel leaned forward towards Sam, and his golden eyes were gentle. “Trust me kiddo. This worked out the best way it could’ve. So give yourself a break, yeah?”

Even Bobby was giving him a soft look, and it was more absolution than he deserved. Sam turned his eyes to his feet for a moment. “So Lucifer got tossed into the Cage.”

Gabriel graciously let him change the topic back again. “Yeah. Luce got tossed in. Dad told all of us to steer clear of the Cage and that no one was allowed to go visit him.”

Millenia left alone in a cage. Sam would’ve lost his mind in imprisoned isolation like that. “Yeah,” Gabriel said, nodding at Sam. “Michael thought it was pretty horrible, too. So Michael, Dad’s favorite, consummate rule-follower…” He paused and then grinned. “…broke the rule and went down to visit Lucifer.”

“Of course he did,” Dean muttered. “That’s part of being a big brother. You don’t run when the going gets tough.” He glanced at Sam, and Sam was surprised to see shame there. “I did,” Dean admitted quietly. “I left you in the panic room alone while you detoxed. I should’ve been there more than I was. I’m sorry, Sammy.”

“It wouldn’t have helped,” Sam started, but Dean glared at him and he shut up. Because it probably _would_ have helped, and more often than not Sam just wanted his big brother there with him. Not that he was going to tell Dean that ever, though. And Sam wouldn’t have had to be down there if it hadn’t been for his stupid choices.

“Listening to the thoughts of you two is tiring,” Gabriel grumbled. “Seriously, just talk to each other after this, all right? Don’t make me listen to much more of this, ‘I’m a bad person and I love my brother so much,’ crap. Please.”

Sam felt the heat rise in his face again. “Michael went down to the Cage,” Dean said gruffly, scratching the back of his neck and resolutely not looking at Sam.

“Michael went down to the Cage. I didn’t know what all was said. All I know was that Michael was gone for so long that I had to cover for him to Dad. Apparently Mister All-Knowing doesn’t really know everything about his kids. Whatever the reason, Michael started spending a lot of his time down in the Cage with Lucifer. I never questioned it. I mean, they were always inseparable. The Cage didn’t really change that.”

He paused and downed the contents of his whiskey glass. Bobby handed him the bottle without hesitation. “Thanks,” he said. He poured himself an even taller glass this time before tossing the bottle onto the desk. It landed neatly without shattering. “Luce’d been in the Cage for a while when the fighting in Heaven broke out again. Except this time everyone was fighting with everyone. Talks about humanity being worthless came up. Some of my siblings apparently hadn’t needed the Mark to turn nasty and that’s when they Fell. Lucifer had nothing to do with it, in all honesty. They all made their own choice. And I made mine. I took off and found my true vessel and stayed there. I was just…done.”

His eyes seemed to melt from gold to a dull brown as he stared into the whiskey glass. “All I wanted was my family,” he said softly. “And I guess I got a little lost being a trickster. Not caring about people or anybody. Just myself. It was easier.”

Gabriel didn’t say anything for a long time after that. Sam almost felt desperate to say something, anything, in light of Gabriel’s story. The words just wouldn’t come, though. What did you say to someone who had lost his entire family to war and constant fighting? Dean would have a better answer, having lived between their dad and Sam’s epic clashes. Dean didn’t seem to have anything he could say either, though.

When Gabriel did speak, his eyes were golden once more. “Anyway, sometime around the Dark Ages, or the 1960's, I forget which, that’s when Michael found me. He told me the Host thought I was dead which, sad that I missed my own funeral, but whatever. Then he caught me up on what was going on. He said that the Mark, now that it was gone, wasn’t controlling Lucifer anymore, and that Lucifer was back to being, well, Lucifer. So he’d gone to talk to Dad about getting Lucifer forgiven and out of the Cage.”

That didn’t make a lick of sense. If Lucifer had gotten out eons ago, then why the big show about getting Lucifer out now? “Wait, so then Michael talked to God and what, Lucifer got out of the Cage? Then why does no one else seem to have gotten the memo?”

“Because Dad flaked off, that’s what,” Gabriel said. He looked frustrated now. “When Mikey went to ask Dad for Lucy’s pardon, Dad was missing. Which left us sort of really stuck, because it wasn’t supposed to have been a permanent thing. Just a time out. Except as it dragged on, Michael suddenly realized that Lucifer couldn’t leave without Dad’s permission or, really, his power. Without Dad around, though…”

Lucifer would’ve been trapped in the Cage forever. Sam could see by the look of horror and disgust on Dean’s face just what a fellow big brother would’ve thought of _that_. A little brother, trapped in a punishment that suddenly got a lot more eternal.

Sam took a breath. “But he’s not in the Cage.”

Gabriel began to grin, a slow smile that crept up the sides of his face. “Nope,” he said, and he popped the ‘p’. “Because we got him out. Or, well, we got parts of him out at a time.”

“Parts?” Bobby sputtered, jumping in at last. “The hell do you mean, parts?”

“I mean that we couldn’t get him out whole, but we could pull his Grace out separate from his being. We split him down the middle, so to speak, and lemme tell you, it wasn’t easy. For a lot of reasons.”

Sam began to ask what happened next, then froze. He knew exactly what happened next, thanks to Anna. Dean seemed to be thinking along the same vein. “He wound up human, right?”

Gabriel pointed his fingers like guns and shot them both off at Dean. “Got it in one. The upside was that Lucifer got out. The downside was that, well, he was going to be human. But because it was a clean break, his new body started, well, at the beginning. He didn’t just inhabit some poor schmuck. No, he started life the way everyone else does: springing out of a woman.”

A baby. Lucifer had been a baby. “What about Michael?” Sam asked. “Is he out there, watching over Lucifer?”

“He couldn’t,” Gabriel said with a shrug. “It would’ve set off warning bells for Michael to suddenly follow after a human. Archangels aren’t exactly guardian angels, that’s a whole different division. But Michael didn’t want to leave Lucifer without someone to help him and watch out for him.”

“Why not?”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow at him. “If your brother was suddenly made defenseless and disabled, and your options were to ignore him or become handicapped with him, which one would you take?”

“I’d go with him,” Dean said. There was no hesitation to his words, no pause, nothing. Just Dean immediately going with his gut and speaking a truth that Sam hadn’t known he needed to hear until he’d heard it. Even after everything, Dean would choose to walk with Sam. It was humbling, and Sam felt his eyes burn in response.

Gabriel gave them a, _See? Told you,_ look but thankfully didn’t say it out loud. “Michael made the same call. I agreed to keep an ear out but basically left them alone.”

“Wait, wait, hold up,” Sam said, because to say it was one thing, but to actually _do_ it… “Are you saying…?”

“That Michael became a human too? I am.” Gabriel took a deep breath. “Yes, Michael became human for Lucifer.”

“And you know where they both are,” Dean said after a moment. He looked as shell-shocked as Sam felt.

Gabriel smirked. “Of course I do.”

“And their Graces?” Sam couldn’t help but ask.

“That too.”

“So…where are they? Wait, oh hell, do they even know who they really are?”

“Oh my god,” Bobby said faintly when Dean had barely finished speaking. Sam found the older man staring with a dropped jaw and wide eyes, and his gaze kept bouncing between Sam and Dean. “Oh my _god_.”

Gabriel chuckled. “Welp, at least one of you isn’t braindead.”

Even as Dean sputtered over the insult, Sam suddenly felt the realization sweep over him. His skin went cold and Dean’s voice got tinny. He stared at his brother, then at Gabriel, who looked far too amused but also too knowing, and then back at Dean again.

Sound filtered back in. “…just tell us- what? Sam? You okay?” Dean glanced at him with a frown. “Hey, you all right? You look like you’re gonna pass out on me.”

Slowly Sam turned to Gabriel. Thankfully the smug look was gone, and in its place was something that almost looked like wistfulness. “You ever look at other siblings and wonder why they don’t care the same way you and Dean do?” he asked quietly. “No two other brothers have a codependent streak a mile-wide like you two do, but it’s okay. You kinda can’t help it.”

It was honestly more than his brain could comprehend. More than he could truly understand, and from the look on Bobby’s face, he was in the same boat.

Yet, somehow, despite all of that…it made sense.

Dean’s head whipped to Bobby’s expression, then Sam’s, to Gabriel’s soft and almost tender look, then back to Sam. “ _What_?” he finally exploded.

“It’s okay,” Gabriel said, and he looked gleeful again. “You were always a little dense, brother.”

It only made Sam feel a little bit better when Dean seemed to finally buy a clue. He opened his mouth, then shut it again, opened again, then finally snapped his jaw shut. His eyes were as wide as saucers.

“Yeah,” Gabriel said. “Michael and Lucifer, hidden in plain sight. Hiya, bros. Boy do we have a _lot_ to talk about.”

The house stood quiet in the middle of the night. No dogs barking, no cars passing by. Just the tick-tock-tick-tock of the clock on the mantle and the random drip of the faucet in the kitchen. Dean kept swearing he’d get to it, but it never seemed to make the list of Need to Dos. Not when there was an apocalypse and archangels and, most importantly of all, a little brother tumbling down a dark hole because he thought it was his only option forward and he was desperate to prove his own worth. To do it right.

Dean idly traced his finger over the groove in the kitchen table. His other hand was wrapped around a beer bottle, now long warm and barely touched. The condensation felt tacky against his skin. It gave him something to ground himself with.

Because today? Today had been nothing short of insane, and he’d had his world uprooted so many times that he didn’t know which way was up. Everything he’d heard left him trying to cling to some form of normalcy. Not that he’d ever had that much in his life but seriously.

He was _Michael_? As in, the archangel Michael? Not just a vessel – nice to tell him that in the sales pitch, Zach – but the actual reincarnation of the first angel.

And Sam was Lucifer. The devil, Satan. Except…

Well. Not the way Gabriel had described him. It was clear that Lucifer had tumbled from grace and straight to evil, to Hell, but not by complete choice. He’d chosen the Mark, and he’d fought the influence. If Lucifer was truly his little brother, then knowing Sam, he’d fought it with everything he had. But in the end, the Darkness had been too strong.

_“She’s too strong. Help me! I’m becoming something I do not want to be.”_

Dean blinked. “Sam?” he called quietly. His brother didn’t answer. He peered through the dark rooms around him but heard and saw nothing.

Yet that had been Sam’s voice he’d heard. He knew that voice better than his own, and that had been his little brother’s voice, filled with terror and grief. Resignation.

He closed his eyes and tried to hear the voice again. Had he just imagined it? “C’mon,” he muttered. “What was that?”

_“What do you want me to do, little brother?”_

_“Help me. I don’t know what to do anymore, Michael. I’m hurting others. And I fear I will hurt you.”_

His eyes flew open. His voice, Sam’s voice. But not them. Lucifer and Michael.

A…memory? Was that even possible? No. He was just imaging things, putting vague ideas in his own mind because of everything Gabriel had told him.

But it felt…real. At least, the anger and worry in his chest felt real. Worry because his little brother was desperate and fearful and changing before his eyes, anger because it was supposed to have been _him_ , Father had told him to bear the Mark, not Heylel-

“Okay, woah,” Dean muttered, shoving himself out of his seat. Time to think about something else. Like where the hell Cas was or if Sam was sleeping or Busty Asian Beauties or something, _anything_ , that made him Dean Winchester.

Because that’s who he was: Dean Winchester. He didn’t want to lose himself to, to some archangel douchecanoe that Gabriel said he used to be. And that was if the trickster wasn’t screwing with him. He wouldn’t put it past him.

And even if it were true, Dean refused to become Michael. He wasn’t Michael, he was Dean, _he was Dean._

“Dean?”

He glanced towards the doorway at the quiet inquiry. Sam stood, tentatively hanging outside of the kitchen. “Are you okay?” Sam asked.

Dean let out a breath. “Not really,” he admitted. “You?”

“Not really,” Sam agreed. Dean nodded towards the living room and took his usual spot, the desk chair. It left the sofa next to him open for Sam, who sat down slowly. He looked exhausted.

“Have you slept at all?” Dean asked.

“Tried. Just…couldn’t. Not with everything. I have no idea how Bobby’s asleep, but that snoring wasn’t fake.”

Dean snorted. “Wasn’t his world that got completely turned upside down. Man, I don’t even know what to think.”

Sam didn’t say anything for a long moment. When Dean glanced his way, he found his brother chewing on his thumb knuckle. Carefully he reached out and tugged the digit free, startling Sam. “You used to make them bloody,” Dean said quietly. “I tried everything to get you to stop chewing on your fingers but nothing ever worked.”

“I’m the devil,” Sam whispered miserably, which was what Dean had been afraid he’d say. “Dean, I’m _Satan_ reborn. What chance did I ever have? Dad should’ve just killed me when he had the chance, you should’ve done it when I asked you to-“

Okay, that was enough of that. Dean moved his hands to box in Sam’s face and hauled him in close enough that he could count Sam’s individual eyelashes. “You say it again, and I’ll give you that beatdown I owe you,” Dean said firmly. “There is nothing evil about you, and I am not going to kill you. I will _never_ even consider it. And I will take out the first person who tries. Do you understand?”

Sam made a face. “Dean, you can’t make excuses-“  
“I’m not making any excuses. You screwed up; so did I. What I’m telling you is that there is nothing wrong or evil about you. You’re my little brother. And I’ll do my damnedest to keep you safe. Always.”

He watched as Sam shut his eyes tight, but not before he caught sight of the moisture lingering there. “Sammy-“

“What does it say about me that I’m Lucifer?” Sam choked out. “I, I don’t want to be Lucifer. Dean, I can’t-“

“Hey,” and he said it sharply because he knew what Sam sounded like when he freaked out, and it was the sound Dean was hearing now: voice a little higher pitched, words a little too fast, volume so, so small that he was barely audible. Dean gently shook Sam’s head, enough to pull him to a stop. “ _Hey_. There’s nothing wrong with that okay? He sounds less like destroyer of worlds and more like a good guy who got lost.”

“And how do you know that?” Sam asked, pleading.

The words just sort of…came out. “Because you’re him,” he said. “And you couldn’t be evil if you tried. You just got lost trying to do the right thing. That’s all.”

Sam stared at him for a long time, and Dean wondered if there was something else he could say, something else that was worth anything. Then Sam’s lips slowly turned up into a tremulous smile. “Thanks,” he said. “Not just for that, but for everything. For coming for me. For taking me back.”

_“I will always be here, little brother. There’s nowhere you could go that I would not follow.”_

“Always,” Dean said, swallowing hard. He ruffled Sam’s hair and got the indignant squawk he was aiming for, though he was pretty sure Sam did it just to pacify him. Because that’s what good little brothers did: help their big brothers avoid potential chick flick moments.

When Sam yawned, Dean couldn’t stifle a snicker. “C’mon, dude, bed,” he said, grinning when Sam looked sheepish. “Time for all reincarnated angels to get to sleep.”

“Don’t do that,” Sam warned. “Seriously, it’s a little creepy.”

Yeah, all right. “We’ll sort it out tomorrow morning. Including what happens next.” Whatever that meant. He was pretty sure it involved finding Cas. Maybe talking with Gabriel about what happened next.

Archangel. He sort of wished for the days where their conversations involved killer trucks. Those at least made some kind of sense.

He fell asleep to Sam settling into the bed across from his, able to rest for the first time in what felt like months.

He never heard quiet footsteps come into the room, or felt someone resting a hand on both his head and Sam’s. “No nightmares tonight,” Gabriel murmured. “I can do that right at least.”

After another silent moment of watching them, he left, the door shutting without so much as a creak behind him. Another moment later and the sound of flapping wings echoed through the hallway as he took to the skies.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a super long chapter, but a little something more as I continue to work deeper into the fic.

_The Cage was always so cold. It didn’t match with the bright warmth that had been Heylel for so long, or even the brighter, almost desperate way that Lucifer had shone after the Mark. He flinched when he touched the bars of the Cage but called for his little brother._

_There was no answer. Michael frowned._

_“Lucifer? I’ve brought someone with me.”_

_From behind him, Gabriel stepped out. He was wearing some garish outfit that he insisted was period-consistent for the time that Earth was, but Michael was certain he was just messing with him. No one would dare to wear that many colors all at once. He nudged Gabriel when his youngest sibling seemed hesitant. “Call for him,” he urged softly. “He’s here.”_

_“Luce?” Gabriel called. “Lucy? Hey, it’s, it’s me. Where are you, bro?”_

_There. A flash of wings, the sound putting a rush of joy in Michael’s breast, and then Lucifer was there. He looked…_

_Terrible. He looked absolutely terrible._

_Michael frowned and instantly reached through the bars. “Lucifer, what’s happened? Has someone harmed you?”_

_Lucifer gave an ugly snort. “No more than usual. Except for you, I have no visitors. Well. Now you two.” He turned his gaze to Gabriel, and tears flooded his eyes. “I am so glad to see you alive and well, little one. Though, what in Heaven’s name are you wearing?”_

_“He insists it’s Earth garb,” Michael said. He pitched his tone for as normal as he could, but Lucifer’s wan appearance was frightening. His hair hung limply around his countenance, he seemed thin, and his Grace was…different, somehow._

_Where was Father? This madness had gone on long enough._

_“Hey, don’t tell me about Earth fashion,” Gabriel retorted. An instant later, he was inside the Cage. He flinched and rolled his back, flexing his wings. “This is top line. Trust me.”_

_“Gabriel! You shouldn’t have done that!” Lucifer scolded, but he closed his eyes in gratitude when Gabriel embraced him. It made Michael yearn to be in the Cage as well, no matter how much it stung his Grace. Lucifer was worth it a million times over._

_“Hey, Mikey told me I could get in and out of the Cage. If I’m here, then I’m going to do it right.”_

_Lucifer swung his gaze over to Michael. “Don’t you dare follow him,” he warned, yet his gaze told a different story. Something twisted tightly in Michael’s chest at the sight._

_It only made what he was about to say even worse._

_“I’ll do as I like, and you will not tell me otherwise,” Michael said. “Visiting you with bars between us is horrid. I would rather be there with you than out here.”_

_Lucifer froze. “Then…Father said…”_

_“Father said nothing because Father cannot be found,” Michael said angrily. “I have searched the world over, several galaxies, and Heaven at least a dozen times. He is not to be found.”_

_“Probably on one of his vacations,” Gabriel said. He looked furious but was clearly keeping it together as best as possible for Lucifer’s sake. “You know how Dad can be.”_

_Lucifer did not share their anger and fury. His already pale face when impossibly paler. “What? No. No, you, you have to find Father. I have to get out. Michael, you have to get me out, please!”_

_Michael felt like using one of the curse words that Gabriel had utilized when he’d found his youngest brother and explained what was going on. He swallowed it back because that wouldn’t help Lucifer, not now. “I will find him, Luce. I swear to you. And then you will be released as you should have been eons ago.”_

_His brother was already shaking his head frantically. “How could he leave me here? I have made my penance, I’ve paid for my mistake, he can’t keep me here forever can he? Oh Heaven, he can’t do that, don’t let him do that-“_

_“You can do this,” Michael began, trying to stem the torrent of emotion Lucifer was letting out, but Lucifer was already speaking again._

_“I can’t do it, not anymore.” His dark hair swung about his face in an almost panic. “I have to get out, Michael. You don’t understand, this Cage, it’s, it’s choking me, dimming my Grace.” He reached for Michael through the bars and Michael instantly grasped his hand, intertwining their fingers. “Don’t leave me here.”_

_And Michael couldn’t. Not when Lucifer was so clearly terrified in a way that Michael had never heard before. “When did this start?” he demanded. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”_

_“Because I thought Father was going to let me go,” Lucifer said miserably. “I can’t get out without him.”_

_“He’s not wrong.”_

_Michael scowled at Gabriel, who had flown back outside the Cage and was irritably shaking his wings. “Gabe, no. There has to be another way,” he said. “I can get in and out of the Cage, and so can you.”_

_“Yeah, because it’s not tied to our Grace.” Gabriel touched the bars of the Cage with a grimace. “Lucifer’s Grace, on the other hand, it’s latched on tight. The only way we can get him out is if we tear his Grace out.”_

_The very thought of doing that to Lucifer made Michael’s very being shudder in revulsion. Lucifer seemed to pale but finally nodded. “If that’s what it takes,” he said quietly._

_Michael swung around, shock turning to anger. “You’ll be denied entrance to Heaven as an angel, Lucifer. You’ll be a_ human _. What you never wanted.”_

_“I’ve learned my lesson,” Lucifer said quietly. “I think…I think I could find my love for them again. I’d like to see the best of what they can do. Perhaps walking among them would give me that. Once I’m there, there’s nothing that says you can’t rejoin my Grace with my body.”_

_This was going nowhere near what Michael had planned. It felt like the world was crumbling around him, tearing the air from the sky and tugging his wings from his being. Lucifer stood, resolute, and Gabriel wouldn’t meet his gaze._

_“You’ll still watch out for me, though, won’t you?” Lucifer’s voice suddenly held none of the confidence he’d had a moment before. Now it trembled in anxiety, matching the wide, wet eyes. “Don’t, don’t leave me alone, Michael-“_

_“I won’t,” Michael promised. No matter how he had to do it, he wouldn’t leave Lucifer alone to face being human. His little brother, defenseless, with no Grace or wings. All because Father couldn’t be found._

_Behind them, Gabriel cleared his throat. “Michael, a word?”_

_Reluctantly Michael tore himself from the Cage wall. “What?” he snapped. He shouldn’t be taking it out on his younger sibling, he knew that, this was hardly Gabriel’s fault that Father had decided to disappear and leave Lucifer abandoned. But Heaven above, Michael’s rage and fear were hitting their limits and Gabriel was an available being to take it out on._

_Gabriel seemed to understand, at least, which Michael was grateful for. “You can’t make promises you don’t intend to keep,” he said. “That’s not fair to him. Don’t do that.”_

_“What do you mean?” Michael asked incredulously. “I have no intention of not keeping that promise.”_

_Gabriel sighed, and when he spoke next, it was as if the words caused him physical pain. “If…if you continue to move yourself to Earth to watch out for him, you’ll…they’ll notice, Michael. The Host won’t forgive you for continuously disappearing to Earth when the angels are supposed to be nowhere near humanity right now. They’ll ask questions, and not nice ones. You get that, right? Like, groove with me here.”_

_Michael didn’t know what ‘groove’ meant, but he well understood the inflection and the pleading look Gabriel was giving him. “I, um, ‘groove’ with you,” Michael finally said. “But what else am I supposed to do, Gabe? Leave him on his own? How well will the Host take that if they discover him missing, especially with all the work that’s been done for our future vessels?”_

_Gabriel said nothing, but the look on his face said enough. Lucifer would be unprotected, unguarded, alone in a human shell. He would be so easy to kill, and it stole the air from Michael._

_No. It wasn’t happening._

_“I won’t risk you.”_

_Michael turned. Lucifer was forcing a smile for him, just as he had when he’d taken the Mark, and Michael hated that smile. It was a smile tinged in fear, a smile filled with as much determination as he could muster. It meant his little brother was terrified and trying desperately to hide it. As if Michael couldn’t read him. As if Michael didn’t know everything about him._

_“Luce-“_

_“I won’t,” Lucifer insisted. “The Host would decimate you, Michael. No matter whether you’re Father’s First or the Prince, they won’t hesitate to strip you of your Grace, your wings, your everything. And then where would we be?”_

_But to leave Lucifer alone, at the mercy of humanity?_

_There was no contest. And Michael suddenly knew what he had to do._

_“Then I won’t visit,” Michael said. Lucifer’s smile dimmed but he gallantly held it up. It was clear that the idea of losing Michael was costing him everything, yet he was holding on tightly in order to spare Michael._

_There were some days that Michael truly didn’t think he deserved his little brother. His love was a gift, one that Michael would never let go._

_“I’ll fall, too.”_

Dean slowly opened his eyes. He wasn’t usually allowed the luxury of waking on his own, or waking without demands weighing on him, so to let himself fade back into reality was rather nice.

It also gave him time to sort out the dream – _memory_ – of what had happened.

What struck him first, perhaps, was the fact that Gabriel hadn’t really changed – except for the very clear hairstyle of the 70’s, and there was going to be some ribbing about that. No, his vessel was still the same shorter, golden-haired man that Dean had met a few years ago. He knew that Gabriel had claimed his vessel back with Loki, but still, he’d sort of expected…something else, maybe. Like the glowing light he saw in Castiel’s eyes, or the golden flare he’d seen in Gabriel’s eyes yesterday. The Grace being its own entity, a glowing figure, or maybe their true forms. He figured, somehow, that he’d see the angels as their true forms.

Because when he’d looked at Lucifer, he’d seen Sam.

Maybe his brain had tried hard to comprehend the memory of Grace and had filled in for him. Sam’s hair – Lucifer’s hair – had been just as wild, long, and unkept as it usually was. The darker eyes hadn’t changed, and neither had the puppy eyes. Or the heartbroken, I’m-being-strong-for-you look that Dean was far too familiar with seeing on Sammy’s face. The one that had recently been replaced with the even less desired, I-don’t-think-I’m-worthy-of-being-loved-you-must-hate-me-I-am-pondscum. Dean was _really_ not thrilled about that one at all.

He pursed his lips at the memory. It was definitely a memory, no question about it. He’d gazed at Sam (Lucifer) with his own eyes, felt the Cage with his own hands, felt Lucifer’s (Sammy’s) fingers clutching at his own. If he could’ve seen his reflection, he had a feeling it would’ve been short blonde hair and green eyes staring back at him. He’d felt the emotions churning within him, the despair, the fear, the resolution.

He’d fallen, all right. And it hadn’t been a question if he’d do it. He couldn’t leave his little brother to face the world frightened, defenseless, alone.

Seemed like that hadn’t changed a bit. Sam, Lucifer, it didn’t matter the name. _Little brother_.

Well. Little brothers. There was another brother wandering around now.

He slipped out of bed to head down the hall. Sam was still asleep across from him, and Dean paused to watch him breathe in and out a few times before continuing downstairs. Safe, not in the Cage, not alone.

Still no sign of Castiel as he made his way into the kitchen, but Gabriel was there. He was munching on a bag of sweets he’d pulled from somewhere, and he gave Dean a brilliant grin when he was spotted. “Sleep well, Dean-o?” he asked, far too awake for this early in the morning.

Yet now that Dean had been in someone else’s shoes, his old shoes, he could see what he hadn’t been able to before. There were tight lines around Gabriel’s eyes, and all around him was this weariness that was being held back by sheer force of will. Gabriel had gotten lost somewhere since he’d helped Lucifer escape, even more disillusioned with Heaven. He’d had literally no one after Michael and Lucifer had joined the mortal realm.

It was with that knowledge that Dean straightened where he stood in the doorway. Gabriel paused. “Something wrong?” he asked.

“You tell me,” Dean said. He’d wondered if being Michael would be akin to being possessed, losing who he was, but it felt more like fitting a few missing pieces of himself back together. Still Dean, but still Michael, too.

It must have shown, because Gabriel’s smirk disappeared in an instant, and his eyes went wide. “…Michael?” he asked quietly. He looked afraid of the answer.

Dean huffed a laugh. “Sort of. Getting there, I think. As much as I can without the Grace. I, uh, groove with you,” he added, hoping to spark a memory.

It sparked something, because one moment, Gabriel was frozen in his spot, and in the next, he was hurrying around the table to throw himself at Dean. Dean caught him and held him tight. A month ago, Dean would’ve laughed himself silly at the thought of hugging the trickster. Now, now it just felt like holding Sam, of a sort. He was holding his brother, the one who’d helped him and Lucifer when no one else had. That meant a lot.

“Thank you,” Dean whispered. Gabriel made a choked sound and tightened his grip. “I know what I asked you to do was kind of a crapshoot but you did it. We got him out because of you. Thank you, Gabriel.”

Gabriel snorted a watery laugh and pulled back. His eyes were filled with tears, but his smile looked more genuine than it ever had before. “Father above I’ve missed you,” he murmured. “I have to tell you, when you two showed up at the college that day, I could barely keep my head on straight. I mean, I knew, but knowing was different than seeing, and you two were basically carbon copies staring me in the face.”

So they _had_ looked like, well, themselves? “So why didn’t anyone else ever get it together?” Dean asked, making a face. He would’ve thought it would make them easier targets.

Gabriel shrugged. “You and Luce didn’t exactly socialize all that much with the others, not like me and Raph did. Plus, those who did recognize you just figured you were the vessels, meant to mimic the archangels.” He grinned, quick and light. “I had nothing to do with that. Well, with what you wound up looking like. Only thing I did was throw a wrench in the spanner by shoving you two into the intended bloodline.”

“Bloodline?”

Sam stood in the doorway, still looking exhausted as he had the night before. “Kiddo, you look like you need at least another twelve hours of sleep,” Gabriel said softly. There was still snark in his tone – always had been, some part of Dean knew – but there was also a tenderness that Dean knew hadn’t been there before. Well, not for Sam and Dean, not really. It must have cost Gabriel so much to see his brothers and yet still have them so far out of reach. It made his heart break a little more, even as it swelled with pride. Gabriel was stronger than he knew.

Sam was shaking his head, and Dean felt the pull of _little brother_ all the stronger. “He’s not wrong, Sammy. Go back to bed, dude.”

“Can’t,” Sam said. “Coffee, I just need coffee.”

Gabriel and Dean exchanged a look that spoke volumes. _Stubborn ass_.

_Tell me about it._

“What was that about bloodlines?” Sam asked.

Dean began to answer, then paused. “Did…you happen to have any odd dreams last night?” he asked.

Sam slowly shook his head. “Just…the usual,” he muttered. “Darkness closing in, choking me out. You, uh, keep trying to reach for me and I keep getting pulled back. Same sort of dream I’ve had every now and then since before your deal came due.”

The same words floated over him, taking him back to the memory he’d had in his dream. Lucifer’s shining eyes as he recounted his fear of the Cage nearly bowled him over. Not as strong or clear as Dean’s memory had been, apparently, but Sam had had Lucifer’s memory with him all right. And had it for a while.

Maybe Gabriel’s ‘lesson’ at the Mystery Spot had sparked something after all.

“Coffee,” Sam said again. Gabriel sighed and snapped his fingers. A tall cup from a coffee shop Dean didn’t recognize appeared on the counter beside Sam, making him jump.

“Well?” Gabriel said when Sam only stared. “You wanted coffee.”

Carefully Sam ran his thumb over the logo. “This is from my favorite coffee shop near Stanford,” he said, stunned. “How…how did you know that?”

Gabriel shrugged. “I kept an eye on you guys as best as I could. You two were pretty self-sufficient and took care of each other, but when you split, I tried to make sure you were both okay. I figured you’d find your way back to each other. And you did.”

Sam carefully picked up the cup and took a sip. A pleased look crossed his face. “Thank you,” he said before taking another sip. He missed the surprised, fond grin Gabriel seemed helpless to not give him. Dean caught it, though, and it made him want to ask a billion questions.

What he wound up doing, instead, was ask a different question he’d had on the tip of his tongue for some time. “So…we’re Michael and Lucifer, right?”

“Yup.”

“And we had Grace, right?”

“Yup.”

“So where is it?”

“Nope.”

Sam paused before his next sip. “What?”

“Nope, not telling you. Because that’ll open up a whole new can of worms that, quite frankly, I do not need to deal with right now. Not until I get some other things in line first.”

Dean shared a look with Sam. “You still do that,” Gabriel said, grumbling into his candy. “That’s so obnoxious, you have no idea. Raphael was always good about reading what you two were sharing with each other but I never could.”

“What other things?” Sam asked. “I thought the point was for us to not be made defenseless and human?”

“One, you two are _not_ defenseless, a fact that I know very well after being stabbed numerous times by you and a handy piece of wood. You’re the Winchesters. Defenseless is not in your vocabulary. Two, you’re actually safer as a human. At least, for now you are.”

Dean gave Gabriel a glare. “Gabe,” he warned. He saw Sam startle at the nickname that had come out without thought, and he suppressed a wince. Well, that was going to be an interesting conversation.

Gabriel held his hands up. “Okay, ease up on the big brother thing. You asked me a long, long time ago to keep you two safe, and that’s what I’m trying to do. It was safer first to just let you two be humans, and now that you’re wrapped back up in this mess, I’ve got to hold on to the single card up my sleeve I still have.”

“Which is?”

The grin that Gabriel gave was pure pride. “I tuned into angel radio and made some inquiries early this morning. They have no idea where Lucifer is, only that he’s been released, and everyone’s still convinced you two are their vessels. And I don’t intend to dissuade them of that notion, particularly with the next thing we need to do.”

Dean was pretty sure that Gabriel used to make his head hurt like this whenever he was Michael, too. It wasn’t as comforting as he’d hoped for. “Next thing?”

“Yeah. So. According to the Host, Castiel is dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise that he's not. Really.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to cut this one a bit, or else it would've been over 8,000 words - all on its own, it's already over 4,000. On the plus side, that means I have mostly through chapter 7 done and ready to be polished.

Sam nearly dropped his coffee. Dean felt his heart sink in his chest. “Cas is dead?” he managed to get out.

“Listening is key, Dean-o,” Gabriel said. “According to angel radio, Raphael blew Castiel to kingdom come and probably to the Empty for good measure, but I can feel him. Cassie was always one of my favorites, always asking questions, so I’ve sort of always kept him on my radar. Apparently no one’s really looking very closely for him. No, they’re too busy looking for you. So that means we need to go to him. And fast. Because they’re going to realize that, for some reason, Cassie isn’t dead.”

“What’s the Empty?”

Dean jumped at Bobby’s sudden voice. “You all talk too loud,” Bobby muttered. “Figured I might as well get up and join in the conversation properly since it sounds like we’re rescuing an angel.”

“The Empty is a nasty place. It’s been in existence longer than Dad’s been around.” Gabriel shuddered. “It’s where we go when we die. Angels, demons, that’s where we end up, and where we sleep forever. No one ever comes back. I don’t even think Dad has that kind of power.”

“Do you know what it looks like?”

Gabriel turned a glare to Sam. “It’s nothing. Seriously, it’s absolutely nothing. You just sleep, forever, without anyone else. And if you wake up, you go right back to sleep. That’s what Dad always told us. ‘Don’t go near the Empty. You won’t come back.’ That’s what he said, and I think I’m going to listen to him on that one.”

The quote sent a shudder through Dean and Sam both. From his place next to the coffee machine, Bobby paused. “You two all right?” he asked.

“They’re remembering,” Gabriel said. “Dean’s getting some serious chunks of memory back, and it sounds like Sam’s been getting glimpses for a few years now.”

In an instant Sam swung on Dean, and under his frustration was clear hurt. “That’s why you asked me if I’d had weird dreams. Because you did. You remembered being Michael.”

“A specific moment,” Dean exclaimed. “It’s not like I have all my memories as an archangel burning in my brain. I would’ve told you, Sammy, seriously. And the nightmare you described lines up pretty well with what I dreamed about. Uh, remembered.”

Sam began to talk, but Bobby waved him off. “Not now. And no, don’t give me that look, I know you were aimin’ to ask him about what he remembered. Let’s figure out how we help Castiel first. Then you can grill him all you want.”

“I think I have a pretty good bead on Cassie. Unfortunately, as soon as I follow the trail, I sort of remind Heaven and everyone involved where he is, too. So it’s a win/suck event where whoever’s faster wins. Which sort of lends itself to the _other_ card up my sleeve.”

“I thought you only had one ace up your sleeve,” Dean said, and god help him, he was actually fighting the urge to grin. Gabriel was still the funny, crazy idiot that Michael remembered. A little more bitter – all right, a lot more bitter – but he was still in there.

He’d missed the chance to take care of his other little brother, Adam. It sort of felt like a second chance now with another little brother he hadn’t known he’d had.

“Correct, I only have the one ace. This is more like the jack. Or a joker. Whatever. It’s a big deal and an even bigger secret and I’d sort of like to keep it that way for a little while longer.”

It was Sam who spoke next, eyes wide. “They don’t know you’re Gabriel.”

Gabriel winked. “Hole in one! How about we keep it to Loki and _not_ the archangel they think is dead. At least, not until we really need to let them know, or, y’know, when we don’t really have a choice. That’s more likely with you two.”

It was said with the intention to insult but Dean just raised his eyebrows. Sam merely crossed his arms. Gabriel glanced between the both of them before his cheeks actually went red. “And you two say you can’t remember being Mikey and Lucy. Seriously. I forgot how obnoxious it was to have two big brothers.”

Bobby took a sip of coffee and sighed. “If we’re doin’ this, probably better to not do this on an empty stomach. Let me throw together a few eggs and sausages and then we can get movin’.”

The Impala’s speakers were belting out Rush when Sam cleared his throat.

“So…”

Dean groaned and hung his head. “Go ahead. I should’ve known I wasn’t going to get away without you asking.”

“C’mon, Dean. You’d be asking if you were in my shoes.”

His brother made a face but didn’t deny it. Because Dean wouldn’t have been swayed to wait while they had breakfast and got on the road. He would’ve immediately demanded answers. Sam figured he’d been patient enough. Two hours patient.

Gabriel had flown ahead, insisting he needed to do recon. “I’ll call if you need to know something,” he’d said. “For now, head south and I’ll catch you in Albuquerque.” Bobby had grumbled about the heat but gotten into his car to follow. Personally, Sam was looking forward to the warm, dry climate. He hated being cold.

Dean still remained silent, so Sam pushed a little more. “So, what did you dream? You said it was tied into mine.” The very thought of the dreams made him want to shiver. Dreams: more like nightmares, where he was trapped in the dark with no way out, getting progressively weaker and weaker as he fought to find his brother. Always searching for his brother. He thought they’d started because of Dean’s deal with Hell.

Now, however, it sounded more like Gabriel’s influence than anything else, pulling long-lost memories forward.

With a sigh Dean finally caved. “It was more a crystal-clear memory, like, something that was really important where you can visualize everything perfectly. Like the day you and I grabbed a ton of fireworks for the 4th of July.”

The memory instantly brought a smile to Sam’s face. He could still see the fireworks going off in the air above him, feel Dean’s leather jacket as he’d wrapped himself around his brother. The taste of the bitter beer that Dean had finally allowed him to steal a few sips of as they’d sat and watched the city’s larger fireworks display in the distance. Dean’s hand in his hair as he’d fallen asleep, head pillowed on Dean’s shoulder, all the way home.

“That was one of the best nights of my life,” Sam said quietly.

“Yeah,” Dean said. “Me too.”

It made Sam think for a minute, and the good feeling faded with the implication that Dean had made. “So yours was a really good memory? Because my dream, it’s, it’s not…”

“No, not good, not like the fireworks one. It was bad,” Dean rushed to say. “It was a bad moment but I could just see it as clear as the fireworks memory. Like I was right there. Does that make sense?”

It brought a little relief, even as his stomach twisted with guilt. “I’m sorry, it’s not that I wanted yours to be bad-“

“Hey, no, I get it. Trust me. I get it.” It was said with such finality that Sam couldn’t help but ask again.

“Dean, what _happened_? Because you went to bed as freaked out as I was about this whole archangel thing, and now you’re not. You’re playing big brother to Gabriel all because of a single dream you had. You must’ve remembered something big.”

“It is. Was.”

Silence fell again, but it wasn’t Dean trying to avoid the moment. It was him working out what to say. Right, doing this at Dean’s pace. Sam physically bit his tongue and took a few calming breaths. Because this, this was too important to not let Dean share the way he needed to. Whatever he’d seen had left Dean…

Well. His brother was more settled and comfortable than Sam had ever seen him. He’d half expected to find him at Gabriel’s throat when he’d come down for breakfast, and instead he’d seen Dean almost _teasing_ him, calling him Gabe, something that had clearly delighted the archangel, no matter how much he’d tried to deny it.

And he’d been more open with Sam too as they’d gotten ready after breakfast. Hell, even during breakfast, the connection that they’d sort of lost after Hell had been there again. At one point while they’d been packing, Sam had almost gotten embarrassingly emotional about it. Dean hadn’t said anything, but he had reached out and given the back of Sam’s neck a quick squeeze when Sam had stopped to take a few breaths.

So. Yeah. Dean could still read him like an open book. Maybe even better now with memories of being Michael.

Dean inhaled slowly and spoke softer than Sam had heard from him in a long time. “I’d brought Gabriel to see you, in the Cage. You looked like shit but you were thrilled to see us.”

“Wait, me as Sam, or me as Lucifer?” Sam couldn’t help but ask.

He got a wrinkled nose as a response. “You looked like you do now, but you were clearly Lucifer. Turns out, we sort of looked like, well, us. Gabe said no one raised an eyebrow when we came onto the scene because we’re expected to be the vessels, right?”

Which would make sense. “Okay, sorry. Go on.”

“I’d tried to talk to God about letting you go, but he’d already disappeared. You freaked out in a big way, said your Grace was dimming. You said you would do anything to get out of the Cage but you couldn’t stay.”

The dark that stole the breath from his lungs, crushed him to the floor until he was paralyzed, unable to move, even as he desperately reached for his brother. Sam swallowed hard and suppressed a shiver. “It was…bad,” he finally said. He rubbed at his chest, and his next breath hurt. “I’m not surprised that, um, I told you I needed out.”

Dean looked at him in concern. “Yeah, you sort of said something to that effect, but you said it’d been getting worse, and you hadn’t told me because you expected to get out. And then, well, God disappeared and left you in there-”

_Heart breaking, shattering into pieces, that he’d been abandoned, that his sin had lost him his Father’s love, Michael reaching for him through the bars and he couldn’t stay, he couldn’t, there was no air here, he couldn’t breathe, please Michael no don’t leave me-_

“Sam!”

Sam gasped in air, then gulped in another huge lungful. “Easy,” Dean said frantically, and his hands were moving all over, first to Sam’s face, his shoulders, resting against his chest and helping him breathe. “Easy, Sammy, you’re okay, take it easy.” A hand rested on the back of his neck again, and Sam shut his eyes and tried to breathe.

“M’okay,” he managed after a minute. “Really. I’m all right.”

“What the _hell_?” Dean exclaimed. “You just froze and stopped breathing. And you wouldn’t answer when I called you either.”

Sam took in another deep lungful of sweet, very much-there air. Dean’s hand didn’t move. “It was…I think it was a flashback.”

“You remembered something?”

“No, not remembered, just…felt. It was a flash of emotions in a split-second.”

“Split-second my ass,” Dean muttered. “You were out for a few minutes.”

A knock on his window startled Sam, and he suddenly realized that they’d completely stopped and were no longer driving. Bobby’s worried face peered through the window. “You all right?” he asked when Sam rolled the window down. “You yanked your baby over pretty fast, Dean. Answering your cell phone helps too.”

“Sorry,” Sam said weakly. “I just, uh, couldn’t breathe for a minute.”

Bobby’s eyes immediately shot to Dean, worry increasing. “Flashback,” Dean said tersely.

“We need to stop somewhere a little safer than the side of the road?”

After a moment, Sam realized that Dean was waiting on _him_ for an answer. It was that point that allowed Sam to pull himself together. Dean wasn’t making the decision for him, was trusting him to make the call. Trust. He wasn’t going to ruin that trust again. “I’m all right,” he said, firmer now. “We can keep going.”

Bobby pursed his lips but nodded. “Call if you need to stop again. Or, y’know, haul ass to the side of the road. I’ll follow.”

He headed back for his vehicle and Sam let out a shaky breath. “Well that sucked,” he said at last.

When he glanced at Dean, his brother didn’t look any more relieved or relaxed. “You sure?” was all Dean said.

Sam nodded, and with extreme reluctance Dean pulled back to start driving. The tires needed serious straightening out as they got back on the road, and they’d left grooves in the gravel shoulder. Dean really had yanked them to the side of the road in a rush.

“Not that I want a repeat of that, because I _don’t_ , but I gotta ask what set it off. So I don’t do it again.”

“I don’t know,” Sam admitted. “You mentioned that you’d talked to Father about getting me out of the Cage and, and I guess I was right there in that moment. It was like one of my nightmares, but more intense.”

Dean didn’t say anything for a long moment. When he did, however, it wasn’t what Sam expected. “You said Father.”

Sam blinked. “What?”

“You said Father, just now. Not God, Father.”

He found himself flushing. “You definitely flashed back to being Lucifer,” Dean continued. “Michael, uh, _I_ called him Father, too. Gabriel calls him Dad.”

“I’m scared,” Sam confessed in a woosh of air. Dean glanced over at him, his brow furrowing in worry, but this wasn’t something Dean could help with. The memories, being someone else instead of Sam, this was something his brother had to deal with, too. He was facing the same challenges, the same issues, but doing it a million times better. Sam had never felt more unlike himself, or more like a child desperate to keep up with his bigger and better brother, than right then and there. Even as a gangly preteen, growing into limbs that didn’t suit him after being the shrimp everywhere he went, he’d never felt so out of sorts and wrong.

Then again, Dean was Michael, the first born, the loyal son. The good angel. It wasn’t like he had to deal with being Lucifer, however well-intentioned the archangel may once have been. He’d still screwed up, still let the evil inside of him consume him.

Dean reached for him again, a hand to his shoulder, but Sam shrugged him off, unable to handle his comfort, unworthy of his caring touch. “Sam-“

“Don’t. I don’t deserve it and you know it.”

“You start this crap up again and I swear-“

“I’m not even talking about Lucifer, Dean! I’m talking about _me_. You know, the guy who, who drank _demon blood_ and almost sold out the world because I wanted so desperately to believe that I could be good? That I could do something with my powers, the right thing?”

“We got played,” Dean stressed. “I told you that!”

“I made that choice, Dean! And who’s to say I won’t screw this up too?”

That at least made his brother pause. “What are you talking about?”

“This, this whole archangel thing. I mean, I wouldn’t trust me around a can opener right now, but we’re heading towards a situation that’s going to involve weapons. And if we get our Graces back, I’ll have more power than I’ve ever had before. Doesn’t that scare you? Doesn’t that freak you out, that I’ll be the Devil? And if I screwed up with a tiny bit of power, what else could I do with even more? I’m scared of this, this whole situation, but I’m way more terrified of _me_.”

Silence. Dean’s eyes stayed glued to the road ahead of them, but his lips were pursed, in frustration or anger or maybe even disgust. Something in Sam’s chest broke, and it felt as if a wrecking ball had smashed into his ribcage. He turned towards his door, tears in his eyes.

“No.”

Sam froze.

“No, you don’t scare me. And I am sick of you talking about yourself like this. You did do good things with your powers. You thought you were doing something good with taking out Lilith, and you actually really were. A world without her’s still a better world than one with her in it. But you had Heaven and Hell against you. How one person’s supposed to stand against that, I don’t know.

“And I broke the first seal. I’m the one who couldn’t hold out in Hell. So if you should be scared of anyone, or pissed off at someone-“

“I don’t blame you,” Sam said and winced at his own voice. It sounded like he’d gargled gravel.

Dean winced too. “Then stop blaming you. Former archangels or not, we’re human here and now, and there was no way we were going to hold out against two sides working together against us. We got out of it alive. That’s what I’m focused on.”

Sam glanced at his brother who was staring resolutely out the windshield. “And what about our fight?” he asked. “Where I left you on the floor?”

“You mean the one where I told you if you walked out the door, don’t you come back?” Dean countered. He flinched as if he’d been struck.

“I deserved that,” Sam said quietly. “For what I did.”

The car fell into silence again. The urge to find a blanket, hoodie, something to bury himself under was so strong he nearly reached into the back seat for the spare blanket down in the footwell. It had been a long time since he’d needed some sort of way to hide from Dean, to give himself a barrier between them for just a little bit. He just needed more air to breathe.

“You decided to fall.”

Fingers dug into his palms.

“It was the only way out of the Cage that we had.”

Fingers paused.

“You had to be split from your Grace in order to squeeze you out of the Cage, and you knew what it meant, and you were willing to do it anyway. That told me how bad it was in the Cage.”

Sam swallowed hard but said nothing.

Dean paused before saying, “And that’s when I decided that I would fall, too. Because I wouldn’t leave you. I refused.” He glanced at Sam. “That hasn’t changed, Sammy.”

The tightness in his chest loosened. Air poured back in, and he took a deep breath. “Thank you,” he whispered. _For staying with me, then and now. For not letting me go. For forgiving me, for loving me-_

A familiar hand rested against the back of his neck, letting him breathe even deeper. This time, he didn’t shy away. He still wasn’t sure that he deserved it, was worthy of it, but that didn’t seem to matter to Dean. He was still willing to give it.

It made the rest of the drive down easier.

Hours later, Dean insisted they stop for the night. Sam was looking piqued, and Dean was pretty sure that had to do with the massive amount of emotional outpouring. That and the flashback, which Dean was pretty sure was responsible for some new gray hairs on his head. The sight of Sam choking on nothing, eyes staring sightlessly in terror, lips slowly turning blue-

Yeah, he could do without that. Ever.

Sam argued about stopping, insisted he could keep driving, and they needed to get there to support Gabriel and Castiel. Bobby took one look at Sam and sided with Dean.

It was only when they went to actually sleep that Dean realized Sam was practically vibrating. “Go to sleep,” Dean told him. “We’re all right, okay? And we’ll get an early start tomorrow morning.”

Sam only nodded, and Dean snorted before rolling over. Only so much he could do if Sam was still insistent that he was evil and going to kill puppies or something. He’d done what he could to try and tell his brother that he loved him, that he’d screwed up too. The only thing he could give Sam at this point was time to mull it over and accept it. Tomorrow, he’d prove that Sam was stuck with him. He fell asleep thinking up ideas to remind his brother that he wasn’t being shunted to the curb anytime soon.

It was only a few hours later that he realized he’d made the crucial mistake of assuming he knew why Sam was upset.

A choked off scream drew him immediately to fully awake, and he was out of bed and stumbling to Sam’s before he could think. “Sam! Sammy!”

Even in the dark, he could see where Sam lay, twisting in bed, face contorted with pain, fingers buried in the sheets. It was his open mouth that caught Dean’s attention – that and the tiny squeaks of someone desperately fighting for air.

No, no, _no_ , not again. “Sam!” he shouted, grabbing his brother’s shoulders and shaking him. “Sam, wake up! Sammy!”

Suddenly Sam shot upright in his bed, trembling and gasping for air. His eyes were wide and terror-filled before he hid them beneath his hands.

Nightmare. He hadn’t been upset about their earlier conversation, he’d been freaked out about falling asleep.

Hesitantly Dean sat down beside Sam and rested a hand on his back. “Deep breaths, slow it down,” he murmured. “You’re all right. Plenty of air.”

Sam shook and shook, and his breathing was ragged. Dean forced himself not to clench his fists. He remembered the helplessness when he’d been Michael, watching Lucifer fall apart in front of him. The righteous fury at their Father for abandoning his child in that cold and desolate Cage. So far, Sam hadn’t indulged much into what the nightmares consisted of.

_“I have to get out, Michael. You don’t understand, this Cage, it’s, it’s choking me, dimming my grace.”_

Dean shut his eyes tight and focused on his own breathing.

Years. Sam had been having this nightmare for _years_. Never mind how long Lucifer had actually lived in the Cage. How long had Lucifer dealt with being choked, being crushed, only to never tell him, maybe assuming he’d deserved it? Had he cried out for Father, only to be denied-

No. Not helping. He didn’t need to be Michael now, he needed to be Dean. He shoved the pissed off archangel down and turned instead to Sam. “You want to talk about it?” he asked.

Sam shook his head. “No, I’m, I’m fine. Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Of course he didn’t. Idiot. Dean’s eyes caught the television. “You want to see what the creature feature is tonight?”

“You need sleep,” Sam protested, but he moved back to sit against the headboard when Dean pulled at him.

“Yeah, and there’s no better way to fall asleep than by watching poor acting skills and even worse special effects. Scoot over, bitch.”

“Jerk,” Sam said softly, but he was smiling. Satisfied, Dean grabbed the remote and turned the TV on. It only took three channels before he found a late-night feature that was barely in color but contained all of the necessary elements.

Within ten minutes he felt something heavy fall against his shoulder. He just grinned and slouched down a bit more until he was comfortable with Sam’s head on his shoulder. “You better not drool on me,” Dean told his brother.

Sam slept on, hairs tickling the underside of Dean’s chin. Eh, he’d suffered worse for his little brother. He refocused on the television and let his heart rate keep coming down, Sam safe next to him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens. I have more chapters ahead for revising so hopefully I'll continue to have regular updates for y'all.

They got to Albuquerque by lunch the next day. Not knowing where to go from there, Dean pulled them into a diner.

Gabriel sat at the table in the back corner, clearly waiting for them. “Well, that answers one question,” Sam said.

“You two take forever,” Gabriel whined.

Sam glared at him. “We don’t have wings. We have a car. Slightly different.”

“Yowch. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

“Better than the first time I woke up,” he muttered. He grabbed the chair across from Gabriel and sat down with a sigh. At least he’d actually slept. Though he’d apparently drooled all over Dean’s shoulder, earning him no small amount of ribbing from his brother that morning, the asshole.

Before he could so much as open the menu, Gabriel’s hand smacked down on top of it, keeping it pinned to the table. Sam gave him a withering look. “Seriously?”

“Did you have a dream?” Gabriel asked. He almost looked hopeful. It made Sam soften, just a little.

“Not really,” Dean said, hedging the truth for both Bobby and Gabriel. Unfortunately, both of them were too smart for that, and they gave Sam a knowing look. Sam scowled and dragged the menu out from under Gabriel’s hand. The last thing he wanted to discuss was the nightmare he’d had last night.

It hadn’t been that bad in a long time. He’d been swimming in the darkness, choking on it, unable to breathe. Pinned like a butterfly to the ground, his back heavy with the weight of what he realized now were wings. Cold settling into his very being, burning him away with its frigidity. And he wouldn’t have been able to wake from it if it hadn’t been for Dean shaking him awake.

He was pretty sure he didn’t want to be Lucifer if it meant getting back more memories like that.

“Next time,” Gabriel finally said, “ _call me_. I can help.”

“Hopefully there won’t be a next time.” Sam paused, then offered, “But I will. We will. Thank you.”

Gabriel shrugged. “Hey, I owe you. Not just for being my brothers, but, y’know. For other stuff.”

He’d apologized before about the Mystery Spot, and Sam had essentially let him off the hook. Still, it was nice to know that Sam wasn’t the only one who regretted doing and saying things.

Like telling your brother the words that your Dad had told him and that still haunted him. He remembered the way Dean had flinched when he’d admitted that yesterday. It had settled something inside of him he hadn’t known was off.

Why didn’t they just _talk_ more?

The waitress showed up, four plates in tow. Sam wasn’t even really surprised that he had a delicious looking salad with grilled chicken set in front of him. Bobby grumbled about “smart-ass angels” but definitely didn’t say no to the Rueben sandwich in front of him. Dean just gave a quick salute to Gabriel and dug into his burger.

And absolutely no one was surprised by the chocolate chip pancakes that Gabriel was already slathering in syrup.

“You could’ve just told me that you’d ordered for us,” Sam pointed out.

Gabriel grinned. “And where would the fun be in that? Besides, I needed to save us all time. We’ve got to get to Cassie and fast.”

Dean paused around a french fry. “Is he all right?”

“For now. But I’m not thrilled by what I’m finding. Idiot’s bitten off more than he can chew.”

“Which is?”

“Pretty sure he’s headed into dealing with War.”

Sam frowned. “What War?”

“More like, _who_ is War.”

It was Bobby who spoke next, eyes wide. “You mean the Four Horsemen?”

“Well, just the one so far. War was always an impetuous asshole. He couldn’t wait to get stuff started. And I’m absolutely sure that he’s being egged on by someone on high.”

“Isn’t that what the devil’s supposed to do?” Dean asked. Sam cringed but didn’t say anything. “Sorry, Sammy. Either way, clearly, Sam isn’t doing the egging on.”

“Clearly. And, y’know, maybe he would’ve if he’d been left in the Cage by himself. That Cage would’ve been enough to drive anyone mad. But he wasn’t alone. Which means-“

“Which means someone else is pushing the buttons to the apocalypse.”

Sam began to nod, then stopped. The Four Horsemen – War, Famine, Pestilence, and Death. Capable of doing incredible damage to the world. And if Cas was looking into War…

He set his fork down, no longer hungry. Dean immediately tensed. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“You said Cas is wrapped up with War,” Sam said. Gabriel nodded slowly. “And War’s impetuous.”

“Yes…?”

“And that Lucifer was supposed to be the one to call the Four Horsemen. So they’re on his side. My side.”

There were days that Sam was grateful Dean could read him so well. His face went pale and he hung his head. “Shit,” he muttered.

Gabriel now looked tense. Bobby was eating faster as if sensing things were about to jump into overdrive. “What?” Gabriel asked with trepidation.

“That means he’s against Michael, and thus Dean, or Michael’s vessel as everyone still thinks. Who Cas has been spending an inordinate amount of time with and knows a lot about. Cas isn’t here to investigate War.”

He saw the minute Gabriel got it. “Oh fuck,” Gabriel muttered. “He’s an offering to Lucifer.”

It made Sam sick to his stomach, to think that the angel who had saved Dean numerous times, who had been his brother’s friend, sort of his own friend, was potentially being held captive because of Sam. Maybe even being tortured.

Gabriel snapped and dropped a pile of cash on the table. “We’re out of here,” he said tersely and with another snap Sam found himself back in the passenger side of the Impala. Dean sat behind the wheel, blinking, and Gabriel leaned in from the back seat. “Let’s go!”

The car started with no keys in the ignition. “Okay, okay, wait, don’t start my baby,” Dean snapped, but he slid the car into reverse. Then they were in drive, racing down the road towards where Gabriel guided them.

They wound up outside of the city in the desert. The red rock cliffsides looked like blood with the sun hot overhead, and it made something in Sam’s stomach turn. He just wasn’t sure if it was a disgusted turn or a hungry turn. _Please, no. Please don’t let me want it anymore. Please._

Up ahead were three abandoned buildings nestled in the sand, hidden by the red stone structures. “Old movie set,” Gabriel said tersely as they stepped out of the car. “Perfect place to hide out.”

Or to keep someone hidden. When Sam glanced at the sand in front of them, he knew he wasn’t imaging the red stains. These definitely made him feel ill. “Oh god,” he whispered, horrified.

Dean immediately went to the trunk. “What kills a Horseman?” he asked.

“I do,” Gabriel said firmly. “You just keep him busy. And get Cassie out.”

The trunk was filled with dozens of weapons. Sam swallowed as he looked at each one, familiar with how they felt in his hand, terrified with how much damage he could do. What could Dean even trust him with?

_We got played. This wasn’t your fault. You did what you thought was right._

Deep breaths, in and out. Dean hadn’t cut him out or kicked him to the curb. Hadn’t disowned him, didn’t love him any less. It was more than he deserved. He’d become an addict, turned on his brother, tried to do it his way. And he was still being welcomed back.

A gun crossed into his vision. Sam glanced up and found Dean holding it out to him, eyes deep and too knowing. “Take the knife too,” he said. “Unless you think you can take them on with your juice.”

“No! No, no, there’s no juice,” Sam said quickly. “The knife is fine.”

“That’s not what I-“

A howl rang through the air, pain evident in the cry. They both froze, the gun between them. Gabriel’s eyes flashed a deep amber. “That was Castiel,” he growled. “ _Move_.”

Sam grabbed the gun and the demon knife and followed after Gabriel who was already stalking towards the building. He could hear Dean cursing behind him but now wasn’t the time. They needed to get Cas out, now. Anything that could make an angel sound like that was bad.

“We got a plan?” Bobby asked as he hurried to catch up. He was loaded for bear with a shotgun and a pistol tucked into what looked like a holster. Sam hadn’t even known he owned a holster.

They were nearly to the main building. “I was thinking a direct approach,” Dean said. Gabriel gave a quick nod and disappeared around the back.

“Do we wait?” Bobby hissed. “He gonna give us a signal?”

Sam glanced at his brother. Dean seemed to be of the same opinion he was. _We’re not waiting, right?_

_Hell no. On three._

Sam mentally counted down, and as one they lifted their legs and kicked the door in, guns raised high. It flew off the hinges and into the dark and dusty room. Only two windows, up near the ceiling, weren’t boarded up, and those gave them enough light to see what was happening inside.

The room was large and mostly bare. A few metal shelves lined the walls, dusty and unused. Some had been knocked over, and Sam mentally noted the way they filled the floor – knowing the terrain was crucial in a close encounters-type battle.

A plastic collapsible table was set up near the middle of the room. Pieces of paper were scattered across the top, and one of them looked like a map. The rest of the table contained black lines that he couldn’t make out right away. His gaze quickly swung to the lone chair in front of the table, where Castiel was seated.

The angel’s head was bowed, and what little Sam could see was covered in blood. His hair was rumpled and his trench coat was missing, displaying his tattered and torn dress shirt. His arms were wrenched behind him to the back of the chair, tied to the seat.

In front of him was a normal looking man, dressed in a nice business suit. He looked impeccably dressed and not at all concerned by their entering.

Yet there was something…off about him. Something dark and something powerful. His eyes met Sam’s and Sam couldn’t hold back his shudder. There was no doubt that this was War.

And Gabriel expected them to be able to hold him off.

Without hesitation Dean stepped in front of Sam. “Hey, Men’s Wearhouse – back off, now.”

War laughed as if it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. “Points for the cojones, kid. Not many try to take me on, let alone _threaten_ me. It’s admirable. Not gonna do you a lick of good but still, you made my day.”

He turned to Sam with a more gracious smile. “I’ve been waiting for you. But you’re missing something. I’m looking for the archangel that’s supposed to go inside you, like the ooey gooey center of a tasty cookie. The best part. And it’s missing.”

Sam drew himself up to full height. “I’m more than enough,” he said. He let his fear and rage pull forward until it filled every part of him. War needed to believe there was a reason that Lucifer wasn’t inside him. Sam was going to do his best to give him one. “I don’t need an archangel to make me capable of kicking your ass.”

“No he doesn’t,” Dean said cheerfully. Gratitude helped him straighten up another inch taller. “And what he doesn’t kick, I will. So one more time, asshole: back away from the angel.”

Silence filled the empty room. War carefully extended one of his arms to adjust a cufflink, and one of his rings caught the light. It was large and shone impressively under the sun, and suddenly a memory flashed in his mind.

_“We should get rings too. There are four of them and four of us. Why don’t we have rings?”_

_“Because their rings are their seat of power, Gabe. The last thing we need are rings that could spell our downfall. Especially with as often as Raphael loses things.”_

_“I do no such thing! Michael, make them stop!”_

_“Easy, you two. Leave poor Raphael be before he loses something else: his temper.”_

Something carefully nudged his arm. Sam blinked and found his arms still raised with his gun set on War, with Dean’s elbow still against his. Dean’s face could’ve been carved from stone, but his eyes were clearly full of concern. Sam gave a terse nod – _I’m all right_ – and Dean turned his full attention back to War.

The ring. They needed the ring. Taking a deep breath and praying that Dean would back him, Sam stepped forward and put his gun down. Dean took a sharp breath in but didn’t call him back. There was a muttered curse from Bobby but he, too, stayed where he was. Trusting Sam.

He didn’t deserve them.

War cocked his head in interest. Sam shrugged. “There’s no point to it, is there?” he said. “Might as well not waste the bullets.”

“Smart,” War agreed. “I mean, not that it’ll make a difference for you, but still, smart. I can see why you’re his vessel. He’s a clever one, too. You should say yes, be a part of the winning team.”

“Say yes?” Sam asked. Cas still hadn’t moved, which was alarming on at least three fronts. “Why would I have to say yes?”

“Oh, angels, they’re big on consent. They won’t possess someone unless they have their say-so. Of course,” and War gave a nasty grin, “there are a multitude of ways to _make_ you say yes.”

“Like kidnapping an angel?” Dean said angrily from behind him. War swung his gaze to him and that gave Sam a few more steps forward. Cas still didn’t rouse.

“He’s got all sorts of information,” War said. “On you in particular, buddy boy. And Lucifer’s going to want to know that. This is war, kid. And he’s a prisoner of interest.”

From the corner of his eye, Sam saw Gabriel slink out of the shadows. He was silent and nearly invisible save for his amber eyes that glowed hot with wrath. Taking the gamble, Sam stepped closer, deliberately pulling War’s attention back to him. War immediately grabbed one of the black things from the table and swung it around to Sam’s head. Sam froze and nearly crossed his eyes staring at the iron poker inches from his throat. There was a flurry of movement for a moment, but when War brought the poker close enough to brush the tip against Sam’s skin, it stopped. Sam forced himself to not swallow, and his eyes darted to the table. The black things he couldn’t identify before were all sharp instruments. Torture tools. His stomach lurched again.

War gave a careless grin. “Now, you wouldn’t want to do that, would you? I’d really hate to have to explain why you’re dead to Lucifer. I’m sure it won’t be anything to him to bring you back but still, it wouldn’t look good on me.”

“Whether it works or not, I will shoot you if you don’t back off,” Dean growled.

“You can try,” War said. “But if you damage my suit, I’m gonna get angry. And nobody wants that.” His eyes flashed a dark red before they went back to their previous, normal color.

From behind War, Gabriel continued getting closer. Sam was surprised to see that he looked even more furious now, and he was clearly watching the poker to Sam’s throat. He was worried for _Sam_. It gave Sam the strength to deliberately look at Castiel, then back at War.

War raised an eyebrow. “Something to say, kid?”

“Yeah. I want to see if Cas is okay. And if you don’t let me, I’m going to tell Lucifer that. Because I bet you’re a scary son of a bitch when you’re pissed off, sure. But when Lucifer’s angry? You’ll look like a toddler throwing a fit in comparison.”

The casual grin dropped, and for the first time, uncertainty entered his eyes. Sam stared him down and refused to look away. Internally, he was begging and pleading with Castiel. _Come on, Cas, give me a sign here. Please, wake up._

As if the prayer had reached him, Castiel began to groan. War’s smile returned. “Alive and well. See? There was no point harming him beyond virtue. Definitely no point in killing him – dead bait doesn’t attract the right meat.”

Suddenly War reached behind and caught the flash of silver headed towards him. The angel blade stopped inches from his chest, Gabriel’s glowing eyes right behind it. War actually looked surprised for a moment. “Well, not the archangel I was looking for,” he said. His own eyes flashed red. “But I’ll take you anyway.”

Sam’s hand was already on the demon blade. In a flash he grabbed the poker, shoved it to the side, and swung the blade up and through the wrist. War shrieked and dropped the poker. Gabriel pushed the advantage and his blade, sinking it deep into War’s chest. War’s eyes flickered red even as he fought to pull Gabriel’s blade out.

The demon blade came out of the wrist, and this time Sam swung at the open fingers. Four came off, leaving only the thumb still attached, and the ring made a clinking sound as it hit the ground.

War stopped moving. His eyes flickered red one last time before he dropped to the ground. The body began to melt into the ground, leaving a black and bloody stain in the dust.

Footsteps hurried up behind them, and Sam found himself swung around for inspection. “Are you hurt? Did he hurt you?” Dean demanded.

“I’m fine,” Sam insisted. Dean didn’t look like he agreed, but Sam shook him off. “I’m fine, seriously, Cas needs us.”

They turned to Cas just as Gabriel did. Dean hurried to the restraints while Gabriel’s hand went to his forehead. “Catch him,” Gabriel ordered, and Sam barely got there in time before Castiel suddenly lurched forward, gasping. His eyes were wide and filled slightly with terror, but even as Sam watched, his face was clear of any wounds, and there was no blood anywhere.

“Cas?” Dean asked, coming around to the front of the angel. Castiel looked at his hands in bewilderment, as if unable to reconcile that he was free. Fingers flew to his face, clearly checking for wounds, and then the hands went to his chest. Sam could see now that there were huge tears in his shirt where the fabric was stained with blood, but there was nothing in the skin. Gabriel had healed him well.

“Cas?” Dean asked again. “You all right?”

“I don’t understand,” Castiel said, bewildered. “What happened? How did you get here? War, the horseman, Dean-“

“Handled,” Gabriel said. He gave a cocky grin when Castiel looked his way. “Nice moves by the way, Samshine. You know a lot about horsemen?”

He knew. “Yeah, it just came to me,” Sam said dryly. Gabriel’s grin widened.

Dean bought a clue and turned to give him a startled look. “When you blanked out earlier,” was all he said, and Sam nodded. “You’re sure-“

“I’m positive, Dean. I’m all right.”

“One of these days, I swear, I’m gonna get included in a conversation,” Bobby said. “Can we get outta here?”

“Yes,” said Dean, even as Castiel said, “No.”

“What, being tortured by a horseman wasn’t enough for you?” Dean demanded. “Dammit Cas, you could’ve died. He could’ve slaughtered you. What the hell were you doing here?”

“This is bigger than we thought,” Castiel said. “You don’t understand.” He looked at himself, as if still baffled by how he’d been healed. “If Michael and Lucifer reach you two, the entire world will be burned to the ground in their cataclysmic fight.”

He had to ask. “And…you don’t want that, right?” Sam said.

Castiel turned wide eyes to Sam. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “No. I don’t want you or Dean to fall to Heaven’s machinations. That’s why I even came to War, for knowledge that he’d promised to give me. Knowledge on the one being who can set this all to rights.”

“And that is?” Gabriel drawled.

“God. I need to find God,” Castiel demanded. “He’s the only one who can fix this.”

Sam and Dean exchanged glances. Even Bobby looked startled, enough to say something. “You expect that you can find the Almighty who just disappeared?”

“I have to. There is no other option.”

“You don’t need him, Cassie.”

Castiel’s face scrunched into fury. “Don’t call me that, _trickster_. As if you know me-“

“But I do,” Gabriel said softly. He gave a grin and patted Castiel on his shoulder. “I’ve known you since you were a fledgling and trying to sneak down to Earth so you could dip your wings in the Atlantic, just like Luce and I taught you.”

It was like watching the sun come across his face, starting at his forehead as it smoothed out into surprise and ending with his jaw dropping in stunned realization. “Gabriel?” he breathed. “But, but I thought, I mean we thought-“

“Yeah, I know. Sort of better that way. And a lot better for everyone if no one else finds out.”

Castiel tilted his head, and it was such a familiar trait that Sam felt his entire being relax at the sight. “I don’t understand,” he said.

Dean snorted. “Yeah, you and a lot of other people. We’ll explain somewhere else that’s not scorching hot. Any chance of a motel around here?”

“Of your caliber? Tons. Of my caliber, sort of. Of the caliber I deserve? Not a chance.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Think I saw one with a AAA rate on the way here,” Bobby said. “Not that I saw much at the speed we were goin’.”

Gabriel was already headed for the exit. “Grab the ring, kids,” he called behind him. “Don’t leave it behind.”

The bloody fingers were still on the floor, the ring glistening amongst them. There was no containing the grimace on Dean’s face. Without looking Sam held out his fist on top of his other palm.

Three pounds later left Sam the winner. “You suck,” Dean muttered, heading towards the fingers. “And you so owe me.”

“One of these days, you’ll realize that rock doesn’t always win,” Sam tossed over his shoulder.

“And why does paper beat rock? How does that make sense?”

Sam ignored him and headed out after Gabriel. The archangel was actually waiting for them, leaning against the Impala. It made him grin. “You know, just because Dean’s fond of you now, that doesn’t mean he still won’t murder you for smudging up his car. Even I don’t get that privilege.”

“Yeah, but I can instant wash and wax. That makes me more valuable than you.”

Sam snorted and headed for the trunk.

“You _are_ all right, right?”

He glanced over at Gabriel, who was giving him a look up and down. “Nothing I need to heal?” the archangel pressed. “Because that poker got awful close there, Samwise.”

“I’m okay,” Sam assured him. It was touching, honestly, that Gabriel was so concerned about him. “You and Dean wouldn’t have let him hurt me.”

“Yeah, well. Someone’s gotta look out for you. You and Cassie both get into so much trouble it’s unbelievable.”

Sam grinned and turned back to the trunk. The knife would need cleaning, and he stared at the blood on the blade. It was dark and smelled faintly of sulfur.

“You won’t.”

His eyes went to Gabriel, who was watching him intently. “The demon blood. You won’t go looking for it,” he clarified.

Sam felt the heat rise to his cheeks. “And how do you know that?”

“Because that’s what I did when I zipped you over to Singer’s junk of a house. I cleared the last of it from your system. And honestly, even if I hadn’t, you could handle it. You’d make it.”

It was almost embarrassing to ask, but the surety in his voice pushed him onward. “And you know that because…?”

Gabriel’s smile was that same fond smile he’d given when talking about Michael and Lucifer. His answer, however, surprised Sam. “Because you’re Sam Winchester. You kick ass and take names and you’re stupidly polite with your even stupider hair. You’re stubborn and determined, and I should know, because you’ve out-stubborned me enough at this point. I see Lucifer when I look at you, but you’re Sam, too. Don’t forget that.”

He glanced over at the building, where Dean, Bobby, and Castiel were just emerging. “You’re a part of something bigger, Sam. But you’re also the sum of experiences and events that make you who you are.”

It was the most serious Sam had ever heard him be, and to be honest, he wasn’t sure what to do with it. “Thank you,” he finally said, for lack of anything else that would fit.

The moment was interrupted by Dean yelling. “Hey! Off the car, or I’ll make you buff it by hand in this heat.”

“Be nice, Dean-o, or I won’t wash and wax away the sand later,” Gabriel warned. His eyes danced, a taunting, _Make me_ , that every little brother had perfected by some point. Gabriel had clearly defined his very early on.

Dean scowled but surprisingly let it go, much as Sam knew he’d let Sam get away with doing the exact same thing. Whatever details Dean had dreamed about, Gabe had clearly made an impression.

Gabe. Now _he_ was doing it.

He put the gun away and moved around to the passenger seat. Time to find a motel that Gabriel might not turn his nose up at.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been waiting for this chapter for some time, but the problem with high expectations is that it also requires high scrutiny and revision. I think I'm finally happy with how it turned out. Hope you enjoy!

Dean groused the entire way back about the ring and the bloody mess that Sam had gotten out of. By the time they reached the motel, Sam was beginning to remember that as much as he loved his brother and was grateful for the chance to have him back, there were parts of his brother he wouldn’t miss. Like the ability to complain nonstop for at least twenty miles.

They got two rooms, side by side, but by unspoken agreement they all converged on the one Dean and Sam had claimed. Gabriel muttered that the instant he saw anything that he didn’t like, they were getting out of there, pronto, but so far, apparently nothing had pinged his, “This is my limit to staying here,” radar.

Castiel took a seat by the table and couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off of Gabriel. It was clear that Castiel had held Gabriel in high regard, and Sam couldn’t help but remember the memory that Gabriel had called forward in order to convince Castiel that he was really his brother.

_“I’ve known you since you were a fledgling and trying to sneak down to Earth so you could dip your wings in the Atlantic, just like Luce and I taught you.”_

Lucifer. Gabriel and Lucifer had taught Castiel how to fly above the oceans and dip his wings. _He_ had done that. It was almost more than Sam could handle thinking about.

“He’s fine,” Gabriel said out of nowhere, and Sam realized Dean had moved past Castiel and was now checking him for any signs of hurt. “I would’ve healed anything that was a problem.”

“Great, now there’s two of you,” Sam groaned. That was all his life needed: two over-concerned brothers. “I’m _fine_.”

“Yeah, you keep saying that. Wasn’t like you had a poker to the throat or anything.”

“That cut a little too close, Sam,” Bobby agreed. He glared at Sam when Sam began to argue otherwise. “From our point of view, it looked like you’d been stabbed straight through the throat. So give us a minute here, will ya?”

He made a face but didn’t say anything. The truth was that Sam would’ve been just as upset and concerned if it had been Dean being threatened. It was with this in mind that he let his brother check him over for any wounds.

With Dean as satisfied as he could get, they settled into various places around the room. There was an unspoken agreement to just sit for a minute and maintain the silence they’d found themselves in. Bobby headed straight for the coffee machine, which Sam couldn’t have been more grateful for. Caffeine was in order. Sam took a seat on one of the chairs at the table, giving him the option of pretending to play with the computer if the conversation merited a need for a quick exit. Dean took the other chair, giving _him_ a clear sight of Sam at all times. Knowing Dean, however, he’d vacate the seat for Bobby and stand to pace, usually somewhere over Sam’s shoulder.

Castiel had no options: Gabriel made sure of that. The archangel immediately took hold of Castiel’s shoulders and all but shoved him to sit down on the edge of one of the beds. The younger angel tacitly let him. “Sit,” Gabriel said, breaking the silence, then grinned and patted Castiel on the head. “Stay.”

The younger angel finally stopped his look of awe and instead gave a scowl worthy of a little brother. “I am not a dog, Gabriel, which I understand you’re equating me to.”

“Well, if you sat and stayed, you’d get into way less trouble,” Gabriel pointed out. “But you’ve never been too good at sitting still, so I don’t know why I’m trying.”

“I think what he means is, are you okay Cas?” Dean asked. It was clear that Gabriel wasn’t the only one who was concerned about the angel. The memory of finding Cas tied to the chair was going to haunt Sam for a while.

Castiel gave a faint smile. “I believe the phrase you would use is, ‘I will be’.” Dean looked as thrilled by the answer as Sam was, but they both left it be for the time being. Castiel was safe, healed, there with them. Everything else would probably take time.

The aroma of coffee began to fill the room. A moment later, a hot mug was placed in front of Sam. He nodded his appreciation and closed his eyes to inhale. Whatever it was, it didn’t smell like the crap bags they left in motel rooms. This smelled…expensive.

He glanced over at Gabriel, who just crossed his arms and nodded. “I’m not drinkin’ sludge. Treat it like it deserves.”

Dean, predictably, began to rise when Bobby gave him his mug, but Bobby waved him off. He settled back into the chair, leaving Bobby to lean against the wall. Sam took a careful sip of his coffee and nearly moaned. Yeah, okay, that was some _really_ good coffee.

“Damn good octane,” Dean said and gave Gabriel a salute. Gabriel already had a mug of his own, and Sam’s lips turned up at the huge dollop of whipped cream on top. Honestly, he wasn’t sure if the sugar craving had come from Loki or was just Gabriel. He wished he could remember.

His smile fell a little at that. Dean noticed and frowned. “You all right?”

“Yeah. Just…wish I could remember things like you can.” There were things he was missing, and he desperately craved the knowledge that he didn’t have.

Gabriel snorted. “You always did want more knowledge than your brain could hold. That hasn’t really changed.”

“Have you followed the Winchesters for some time?” Castiel asked.

Oh yeah. Sam had sort of forgotten about _that_ conversation that needed to happen. “Yeah, not like you think,” Dean hedged. “Are we actually safe to talk, Gabe?”

“I just need to set up a few wards. That or send us elsewhere. Might give Cassie here a chance to spread his wings that way. He was always happiest flying around – you have no idea how many times Lucifer and I had to come get him out of trouble.” He smiled fondly at Castiel. “Remember the Aegean Sea? Because I do.”

Castiel didn’t smile. In fact, he looked…confused. “You keep talking about these things,” he said. “I think your time here on Earth as a trickster has ruined your memory, Gabriel.”

“Ruined his memory?” Dean asked incredulously. “What are you talking about, Cas?”

“He mentions that I once flew with Lucifer and Gabriel.”

“Once? Kiddo, it wasn’t just once. We were constantly chasing after you, more than any of the others. You were a rebel from the start.”

“But that’s just it. I never flew with Lucifer. Lucifer had already fallen when I gained my wings. And I would never have flown with a fallen angel. I don’t understand what you’re trying to insinuate, but these…fabricated memories serve no one’s purpose, Gabriel.”

Gabriel looked…well, absolutely dumbfounded, and he wasn’t the only one. The fact that he didn’t remember Lucifer at all was…weird. And not a good weird. That should’ve been something he recalled off the bat. He shared a bewildered glance with Dean. What the actual _hell_?

Gabriel tried to regain some of his equilibrium. “I don’t understand. I mean, you were a fledgling around the time everything went down, but you shouldn’t have completely _forgotten_ Lucifer.”

“I have forgotten nothing,” Castiel said, scowling. “Perhaps _you’re_ the one who’s forgotten details, sharing your vessel with a trickster god.”

On a normal day, Sam would’ve trusted Castiel implicitly and questioned Gabriel. Yet without a moment’s hesitation he knew that it wasn’t Gabriel who was remembering things wrong. “He hasn’t, Cas,” Dean said, apparently of the same thought. “I don’t know why you’re not remembering Lucifer, but Gabe isn’t wrong.”

Castiel’s frown deepened. “What’s going on? There is something more that you’re not telling me. If Gabriel has given you good reason to not doubt him, then that’s something I deserve to know.”

Sam frowned. Castiel almost sounded… _hurt_. It was more human emotion than Sam had ever heard from the angel, but as he watched, Castiel deliberately refused to meet Dean’s searching gaze. That was definitely hurt.

Dean sighed and moved over to Castiel. “Look Cas, there’s more to this than you know. But I don’t think you’re not trustworthy, or that I don’t believe you. I think your memory just might have a few screws loose.”

“Dean. I think I would know if I were missing something from my memory. I would remember,” Castiel said without a single hint of irony.

Dean gave a snort. “Yeah. Not so sure about that.” He took a breath, pursed his lips, and went for it. “Especially since I wasn’t a fledgling at the time.”

For a moment, all Castiel could do was frown. Then his eyes widened, and there was honest to goodness fear in his entire being. “No,” he whispered. “Dean, please, tell me you did not say yes to Michael.”

“Cas-“

In an instant Cas moved, but surprisingly, he darted between Dean and Sam, his back to Sam and his arms held out. “Sam, go, now,” he ordered. “Hurry!”

“Cas, no,” Sam tried, abandoning his coffee to catch Castiel by the shoulder. “It’s okay. He’s not Michael’s vessel.” It was as close to the truth as he could get at while they were outside of Bobby’s wards.

Dean, meanwhile, couldn’t hold back his incredulity. He took a step forward, and Castiel immediately took one back, taking Sam with him. “What the hell, Cas?” Dean said, eyes wide. “I’m not going to _hurt_ Sam! My whole purpose is to keep him safe! The hell would I hurt him for?!”

“Okay, okay, time out,” Sam said, hands up to stall anything else Castiel would’ve said. Honestly, the angel stepping in front of him to protect him was nothing short of touching. The same angel who had called him the boy with the demon blood, told Dean to stop him at all costs, was now standing in front of him, ready to defend him with his very being. “It’s all okay, Cas. But, um, thank you. For keeping me safe.”

After a moment, Castiel carefully and deliberately stepped out from in front of Sam. “It’d be nice to have some help in that regard,” Gabriel muttered, breaking the tension. “I’ve never known someone to get into more trouble than you, Samshine.”

Dean snorted. “Tell me about it.”

“Hey!” Sam said, mostly to give a token objection. Everyone just turned to give him a look. “I resent that,” he mumbled.

“You mean you _resemble_ that,” Bobby pointed out. Dean grinned, even more when Sam stuck his tongue out at him. It was familiar teasing.

If they weren’t careful, he was going to start believing that he really was forgiven.

“Sam’s trouble-luring aside,” Castiel said, which _luring_? Seriously? “Dean, you are no angel.”

“Well, put a pin in my balloon why don’t you,” Dean said, scowling. “Nice, Cas.”

Castiel frowned. “You have no balloon, and even if you did, I wouldn’t pop it. That seems unnecessarily cruel.”

Gabriel clapped his hands together. “This is the most fun I’ve had in centuries,” he said gleefully.

“Any chance we can have a real conversation and at least let the poor angel in on what’s goin’ on?” Bobby drawled. “Because as much as I love yankin’ my boys’ chains, the apocalypse is somethin’ that strikes me as time sensitive.”

Even as Sam reveled in the words – _my boys_ – Gabriel relented, though with extreme reluctance. “Yeah, all right. Let’s do this quick and easy.” And he snapped his fingers.

Sam blinked and suddenly found himself in a very plush room. A bearskin rug was the first thing that caught his attention, sprawled in front of a roaring fire. The stone fireplace rose to the ceiling, vaulted to the second story. Wooden stairs rose in a circular pattern up to a balcony that overlooked the room they stood in. The walls were wooden panels, and the entire place held furniture that looked expensive. Like, more money than Sam could imagine, expensive.

“Where the hell are we?” Dean asked, taking everything in. His feet echoed on the wooden floor.

“Home sweet home. Or, well, one of them. We’re in Norway.” Gabriel shrugged. “You spend a few hundred years with the Norse, you can’t help but make it home.”

The plaid shirt Sam had discarded in deference to the New Mexico heat would’ve been welcome at that point. He was pretty sure there was snow outside, he felt so chilled. “But we’re safe?”

“As warded as they come, bro,” Gabriel assured him. “This was infinitely easier than trying to ward that dumpster fire you call a motel. Scoot closer to the fire, I can see you shivering from here.”

“Seriously?” Dean asked, turning with a raised eyebrow to Sam. “You’re cold?”

“We’re not in the desert anymore, Dean.” The fire felt amazing, and Sam grabbed a velvet chair and settled in beside the flames. “Aren’t you cold?”

Dean gave him a look like he had two heads. “No. Then again, you do get cold easy. Always have.”

He felt the gaze on him before he saw it. Sam fought to not move into a defensive stance. “What?” he asked when Gabriel didn’t say anything, just stared with narrowed eyes.

Gabriel’s gaze didn’t move elsewhere, but it did change to a more thoughtful one. “Well, that probably has to do with the Cage, actually. It wasn’t hot like the rest of Hell, it ran cold. Like, really cold. It probably settled in to your Grace and you’re experiencing the memories of that. Sorry,” he said, and he sounded as if he meant it.

Oh. Well. “Oh,” was all Sam could manage to say. Dean’s face contorted into a mixture of anger and sorrow.

It was Castiel who broke the ensuing silence. “Only Lucifer has been in the Cage,” he said slowly. “Has…has Sam said yes…?”

“They’re not vessels,” Gabriel said. “These _are_ Michael and Lucifer. Fallen, without their Graces.”

For Sam, watching Castiel’s face told him a million things. There was first confusion, followed by searching the others for any sign of lies, then a slow dawning realization. It was tempered by a heavy amount of doubt, which, honestly, he couldn’t really be blamed for, but even as he searched Dean and Sam’s faces again, he was clearly willing to at least suspend disbelief for a moment. “They are the vessels,” he began slowly. “This…this is what Heaven said, what they have worked towards for a long time.”

“They _were_ the vessels. I just happened to shoot their beings into those bodies. That wasn’t as easy as it sounds, by the way, especially when I wasn’t in Heaven to facilitate things directly. You’re welcome.”

“Then…” Castiel slowly shook his head, looking even more confused than before. “Then they cannot be united with their Graces. It would be the end of the world.”

Sam’s good feelings were beginning to fade into unease. “We’re not going to fight each other, Cas. We’re fighting side by side, not head to head.” That was his plan at the very least. But his plans tended to turn to crap.

If Sam was uncertain, Dean was nothing but solid determination. “I’m not turning on Sam ever again. They can try, but they’re not going to get anywhere. The only angel I’m intending on pummeling is Zachariah. I get my hands on him, there’s going to be feathers everywhere.” His eyes flashed in barely concealed rage.

“But you hate each other,” Castiel stated matter-of-factly. It made goosebumps rise on Sam’s arms and the back of his neck. “You have always hated each other. Lucifer’s pride and arrogance were what led to his Fall, and he led many of my siblings astray.”

He spoke as if it were simple fact, and for a moment, Sam doubted. How could he not, when Castiel stood there and spoke with the surety of one who had been there and knew better? When he’d beaten Dean to a pulp in that hotel room and _left_ him? All he had were memories of a horrific Cage in Hell and random words that popped up out of seemingly nowhere. The fire didn’t feel as warm anymore, and he shivered, edging closer to the flames.

Gabriel came over and leaned against the side of the chair Sam was sitting in. His stance was casual, but one of his hands brushed against Sam’s shoulder. It was such a brother thing to do, something Dean had done a million and one times – _I’m right here, hang tight brother –_ and it instantly helped settle his heartrate, which he hadn’t even noticed was hammering out of control. He forced himself to take a few breaths.

Dean moved too, out of the corner of Sam’s eye, but he didn’t move to Sam’s side as he would’ve before. Instead, he settled between Sam and Castiel and crossed his arms. Trusting Gabriel to keep to Sam’s side, but still standing as a shield. The last of the air in Sam’s lungs wooshed out in relief.

“Yeah, so I have no idea what the hell you’ve been drinking, Cassie, but that’s so far from the truth it’s unbelievable,” Gabriel said. “Like, what have you been smoking?”

“I don’t smoke,” Castiel said angrily. “This is fact, this is what I know to be true.”

“Lucifer taught you how to dip your wings in the ocean,” Gabriel said, his voice urgent, pleading. “We weren’t supposed to but you were so desperate to try it that we figured if we stayed with you, there was less of a chance of you drowning or getting caught beneath the waves. You still dipped too far and nearly got sucked under the water but Luce caught you, hauled you back up. Introduced you to the whales that were swimming nearby.”

Sam closed his eyes. He could almost smell the brine of the ocean, the breeze pushing their wings and tempting them to fly higher. Gabriel laughing in delight, nearly giggling as Castiel sputtered and shook his young wings dry. Castiel’s wide-eyed wonder as they brought him to rest on top of one of the whales. _These are gentle giants, Castiel. Much as we are._

Firm fingers grasped his shoulder this time, the support no longer subtle. “You always were poetic,” Gabriel murmured. There was a shine in his eyes, and it was the first time that Sam didn’t mind that he’d read Sam’s thoughts. Or, in this instance, a memory. Because that was absolutely what it had been.

Sam took a deep breath and turned to face Castiel, then froze. Castiel looked lost. He’d been cut adrift and had nothing to moor himself with, and Sam realized belatedly that the young angel was _shaking_. “I,” Castiel began, and then said nothing else.

Dean hesitated a moment before moving forward and resting a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “It’s all right, Cas,” he said quietly. “I get it. It’s a lot to take in. But trust me, that crap you were fed about Sam being wrong and evil? You learned that it was crap. And you were fed the same thing about Lucifer, too.”

“Don’t you remember?” Sam asked quietly. The same feeling of _wrong_ came back to him. “Any of it?”

Slowly Castiel shook his head. “I, I don’t. I never…I went alone to the ocean. Saved myself. I don’t…”

Not remembering was one thing. But a completely different accounting of events? Sam met Dean’s gaze from across the room, and his brother looked as worried as he felt. Something wasn’t adding up.

“The hell’s going on?” Bobby asked. Always able to get to the bottom of things.

In an instant Gabriel shoved off from Sam’s chair and crossed the floor. His feet made no sound on the hardwood planks, but Sam could’ve sworn he heard the rustling of wings as he strode forward. His eyes were certainly golden and glowing by the time he reached Castiel, who, meeker than Sam had ever seen him before, bowed his head at Gabriel’s approach. “Let’s find out,” he said grimly, and pressed two fingers to Castiel’s head.

The entire room exploded. Sam gasped as light shot out from Castiel and shoved him and the chair over backwards. It wasn’t a warm light but something harsh and unbearable, like the light from a doctor’s exam room, cold and unyielding and burning into his retinas. It felt like a thousand needles jabbed into his skin, and he winced, trying to cover his eyes.

A moment later and it was gone. Castiel stood, well, swayed, in the middle of the room, clearly disoriented. Bobby had gone flying onto the bearskin rug and was slowly shaking his head. Dean groaned and stumbled to his feet, heading immediately for Sam. The only one still standing and unaffected was Gabriel, though the confusion had been replaced by alarm.

“You okay?” Dean asked, crouching down next to Sam. He caught Sam’s wrists and carefully pulled him upright. Sam hissed as the needles under his skin poked him once more before slowly withdrawing. “Sammy?”

“Let’s not do that again,” he said through gritted teeth.

Dean snorted. “Agreed. Felt like pins and needles times a thousand and all at once.” He glanced at Castiel, then Gabriel. “What the hell was that, Gabe?” he demanded. “You damn near brought down the house and everyone in it!”

Gabriel stood and shook. Sam immediately took a step towards him to offer comfort, but came up short whenever Gabriel lifted his gaze and pinned him with eyes that burned gold with fury. Right. Not tussling with an angry archangel. “Gabe?” he tried quietly.

Castiel slowly began to sit down with nothing to sit on anywhere near him. Sam diverted his attention to Castiel and hurried to catch him as Dean ran to the other side. Carefully they managed to get the angel moved over to the sofa, which was thankfully still upright, if but shoved back a good two feet. “You okay?” Sam asked.

Castiel groaned and collapsed forward, grabbing at his head. “Whoa! Easy, Cas.” Dean gently knelt in front of the angel and tried to catch the angel’s gaze. “What happened? Cas, talk to me.”

“ **They remade him.** ”

Sam glanced over at Gabriel. The archangel’s true voice was making the glass vases on the mantle begin to ring. “Uh, easy, Gabe,” Dean cautioned, eying the large glass windows that offered outdoor views. No snow. Guess it had just been Sam being cold after all.

“What do you mean, remade?” Bobby asked. He seemed content to stay on the floor, as if suspecting another outburst. Sam was half tempted to join him.

“Tone down the real voice, too,” Dean said. “You’ll blow out all your glass in here if you keep that up.”

The glow in Gabriel’s eyes dimmed, but only just. “They took his memories and tore them out, rebuilt them from the ground up. They ‘reeducated’ him. Pulled out the parts they didn’t like and inserted something new. That level of power isn’t something Heaven does lightly. But they did it here.” He took some more deep breaths as the light in his eyes flared once more. “They took his memories and locked them away, trying to stall something. Whatever the reason, I got it undone. I think. He’ll have memories pouring in fast now.”

“I need to not be standing up,” Castiel managed to murmur.

“You’re already sitting, Cas,” Sam told him.

“Oh. Then I need to not be sitting up.” Castiel’s body pitched forward, sliding off the sofa.

Dean caught him around the chest and hauled him in. “Send us back to New Mexico,” he said. “I need my car. And we need Bobby’s books.”

“The hell good are my books gonna do?”

“Well,” Dean said, and he raised an eyebrow. “We’ve still got Horsemen to deal with. Think it’s time we stopped being behind on the times and started getting ahead of the curve, don’t you?”

“I think he’s settled,” Sam said quietly. Dean glanced up from his Chinese food – wherever Gabriel had gotten it from, the place was insanely good – and watched as his brother collapsed into the sofa near the table. Dean would’ve normally said ‘on’ the sofa and not ‘into’, but the sofa was seriously eating Sam alive and swallowing him whole.

Not that Sam was complaining. At the moment, his brother was letting out a groan that was bordering on, well, something Dean _never_ wanted to hear from his brother. “Dude, get a room,” he complained.

“You have no idea how good this feels,” Sam said with another moan. His eyes closed and he let his head sink back against the fabric. The cushion immediately gave and let him disappear an additional four inches further, and Sam let out a sigh of contentment.

Dean felt his lips turn up at the sight. It wasn’t often that he actually got to see Sam relax, and given the events of the day, he’d anticipated Sam being so wound up he couldn’t come down. Yet he was here, giving an almost goofy grin as he swung his legs up to take full advantage of the massive sofa in the suite.

Yeah, suite. Gabriel, who hadn’t said anything about the motel before, had taken one single step inside, told them, “Uh uh, nope, sorry, I have had _enough_ to deal with today, I can’t handle this level of depravity, this is _not_ happening,” before snapping his fingers and sending them to the other side of Albuquerque, where apparently, they had a _very_ nice hotel. In fact, Dean was pretty sure they were the top floor of one of the casinos. Wherever they were, they weren’t being disturbed, and Gabriel had assured him that they wouldn’t be. That was good enough for Dean.

A week ago and he would’ve laughed someone out of the room if they’d suggested he would trust the trickster. Sort of different when you remembered him being your little brother.

Speaking of… Dean glanced out towards the impressive balcony. Gabriel stood in the evening breeze, hair fluttering slightly. Otherwise, he was completely still against the railing.

“You think he’ll be okay?”

It was seriously uncanny how in-tune they were sometimes. “You sure you don’t read minds?” Dean asked.

“I’ve nearly asked you that about ten times in the past few days,” Sam fired back. “Trust me. But no. I mean. I’m worried about Gabriel. I’m worried about both of them.”

“Cas asleep?”

“Yeah. And it’s…unnerving to watch an angel sleep. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was a corpse.”

Dean shifted uneasily in his seat. Angels, according to Gabriel, weren’t supposed to sleep. They didn’t need to. So the fact that Castiel was zonked out in one of the bedrooms was telling. And kind of scary.

“Cas will be fine,” he said, and tried to make it sound like he was certain. “Gabe…”

Sam sighed, but it wasn’t with happiness this time. “Heaven’s whole ‘reeducation’ thing sounds like something out of a horror movie. They’re all being, what, retrained? Reprogrammed? To forget Lucifer?”

“To shape their opinions of Lucifer into a lie,” Dean corrected. “They want to tell the story their way. Control the thoughts, control how the story goes.” Castiel hadn’t even remembered Lucifer or any of his interactions with his sibling.

They’d thought that the reason Sam and Dean hadn’t been noted as Lucifer and Michael had been because of the whole vessel thing, but if the other angels couldn’t remember Lucifer as anything except a raging, evil devil, it wouldn’t be that big a stretch to assume that they wouldn’t remember details about what Lucifer looked like, either.

He shook himself and turned back to his Chinese before his appetite completely waned. “You want anything else to eat?” He paused, then frowned as the thought occurred to him. “Did you even eat anything to start with?”

“I’m fine,” Sam assured him, which gave Dean both answers at once. He sighed and dug through the boxes. Sure enough, General Tso’s still had plenty of chicken in it, and he pulled it out with the fried rice.

“Here, your favorite.”

Another sigh. Irritation – Dean’s favorite to earn. “Dean, seriously-“

Dean grabbed a clean thing of chopsticks and handed the entire bundle over to Sam, making him sink a little farther into the sofa. “Tough. I’ve suddenly got a ton more siblings than I thought but that doesn’t mean you got off my radar. You need to eat. I even got you your ridiculous chopsticks that you can barely eat with anyway.”

Sam scowled up at him but turned to his food anyway. Success: Dean would take what he could get. “I can too eat with chopsticks.”

“Be easier if you ate noodles like the rest of us.”

“Noodles are gross. I’d say it would be easier if you ate rice but that would leave less for me, so you can keep your wriggling worms.”

“Baby.”

“Worm-eater.”

In between chewing Dean out about his noodles, Sam was chewing on actual food, and Dean was going to count that as a win. First sign of Sam being stressed: appetite change. Refusing food entirely was further down the list and more serious, but putting up a token resistance was lower levels and manageable. As long as Sam actually ate.

Gabriel was still standing in the evening breeze. It made something deep inside of Dean hurt to watch. Who knew what a mess his thoughts were, after watching one brother nearly get skewered by War, then learning his other brother had been torn apart and remade anew with fabricated memories?

“Thank you.”

Dean glanced over at his brother. Sam had that earnest look on his face, the one that said he wasn’t worthy or some crap like that. The, I-am-permanently-wounded face. Dean sort of really hated it.

“For what?” he asked, trying to reign in his frustration.

“For trusting me. Back there, with War.”

Dean had sort of been expecting this conversation. “It wasn’t really something I had to think about,” he admitted. “It comes naturally. Trusting you. You’re my partner.”

“Not exactly trust that I deserve,” Sam said quietly. “With all that blood-“

Yeah, about that. “I wasn’t asking about you being on demon blood, I know you’re not,” Dean interrupted. “When I said juice, I meant your powers. That’s what Ruby told you, right? That you still have them? You never needed the blood?”

With each word, Sam sank further and further into his seat, and shit, this wasn’t going anyway that Dean had planned. “Dean, I’m, I’m so sorry-“

“I’m saying I’m okay with your powers,” Dean burst out. Sam stopped, eyes wide. “I just…Sammy, I don’t _care_. Okay?”

Maybe he would’ve, without Michael’s influence. Maybe he never would’ve said those words, would never have meant them otherwise. But he did mean them. And after a moment, he wasn’t particularly surprised that he meant them, either.

Because he did trust Sam. No longer strung out by that bitch and her blood, this was his little brother who would rather die than hurt someone else. This was the guy who’d railed against his destiny, who even with Ruby had fought to use his powers to save people, and had only succumbed when grief and resigned determination had gotten twisted into an arrogance and pride that had never been Sam. He’d been possessed, essentially, and Dean wished like hell he’d seen it earlier.

He wondered how Michael had felt, watching Lucifer devolve into madness. Probably the same.

Sam was still making a face that resembled an open-mouthed bass. It was a good look on him; way better than that I’m-scum-I-deserve-to-be-loathed look he had lately. Dean raised an eyebrow expectantly.

Sam’s mouth shut so hard and fast his lips smacked together. “Dean, I…I…”

Speechless. That didn’t happen often. “Eat your dinner, psychic wonder,” Dean said. He turned back to his noodles and smirked at the squeak he got for his comment.

The next minute, he was shaking rice out of his face and hair. “Didn’t need powers for that,” Sam told him, and though it was small, his smile was genuine. It was hands down the best thing Dean could’ve gotten – it was _okay_ and _thank you_ all rolled into one.

Didn’t mean that he was going to let the rice go, and he flung a noodle at his brother’s head.

Which was how Gabriel found them a few moments later: covered in rice and noodles and one expertly tossed chicken piece, resting neatly on the top of Dean’s head. He took one look at them, began to say something, then snorted and snapped his fingers.

Dean blinked. There was still a noodle in his vision, and he could feel General Tso’s sauce dripping through his hair. “Uh, thought you were cleaning us up,” he said as Gabriel reached past him for a container.

“Pssh, no. I was replenishing the food you morons wasted. You can clean yourselves up.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been waiting to get to Gabriel's POV which, while limited in this fic, will still come around every now and then. He's a fun one to try and get inside of. Hope you guys enjoy!

_There was no air. It wasn’t just choking him, it left him unable to fly. He missed being able to feel the full expanse of his wings as he soared through the skies. But there was no air to bolster him and keep him aloft. Nothing to fly through._

_He just wanted to feel the air again. He just wanted to breathe, he needed to breathe, and even though he kept suffocating, he wasn’t allowed the mercy of unconsciousness._

_He had enough air to beg. “Father, please,” he gasped. “Please, haven’t I been here long enough? I shouldn’t have taken the Mark, should’ve, should’ve followed your will and let Michael take it but Father, he was so overburdened, I just wanted to help.”_

_There was no answer. There never was._

_The darkness around him pushed in more and more, leaving his Grace that much dimmer and weaker. He dragged himself across the ground, his wings frozen solid and dead weight behind him. The cold dug into his very being and he shook and shook and shook. He just wanted to fly, to pull in air, to be able to move. The darkness wouldn’t let him, was eating him, tearing him into tiny pieces and would leave nothing but frozen feathers for Michael to find._

_He was losing his mind._

_He tried to draw in another breath but his chest wouldn’t expand. Panic flooded him as he fought for air. He couldn’t breathe. Would this be it? Would he finally be allowed to not exist anymore?_

_Oh Father, let him out, please, please let me out it’s too cold and I can’t breathe-_

_Lucifer!_

_Michael. Michael, help me, don’t leave me here, help me, help me help me-_

_Lucifer! Lucifer!_

“Lucifer!”

He pulled himself out with a scream and suddenly found himself out, elsewhere, somewhere that wasn’t _there_. Lights came on, nearly blinding him, but above him, close enough to touch, watching him with panic and worry and _love_ , was his brother.

“Michael,” he gasped, and his fingers found the strength to catch his brother’s shirt and pull him in close. Strong arms wrapped around him and took him from the cold of the Cage floor to somewhere warm and safe. “Michael,” he choked out.

“I’m here,” his brother whispered. “I’ve got you. You’re here, you’re safe. I got you.”

He bent his head into his brother’s shoulder and shut his eyes tight.

It felt…wrong. All of it felt wrong, but there wasn’t much he could do at this point.

This was supposed to have been over when he’d pulled Luce out of the Cage and sent them down to Earth. His brothers were supposed to be together and _safe_.

Instead, Gabriel was facing his oldest brother sitting on a couch, riddled with worry and doing a very bad job of hiding it. His other older brother lay with his head on Michael’s knees, shivering despite the two blankets they had piled on him, fingers still clutched in Michael’s shirt and trying desperately to draw in breaths. It was the weakest he’d ever seen Lucifer.

Sam. The weakest he’d ever seen Sam. And it wasn’t Michael, it was Dean.

This was as close as he’d been to his brothers in what felt like a lifetime, yet he’d never felt farther from them then in that moment.

Another massive shiver shook Sam, and Dean immediately called for another blanket. Singer brought it over, and the old guy looked just as concerned as Michael was. _Dean_ was.

He just wished he could bring them to their Graces and throw them together. Then he could have his brothers back-

No. There was a reason he wasn’t doing that. _Patience, Gabe,_ he could remember Michael telling him, Lucifer standing behind him with amusement. _You need to be patient. All this rushing around isn’t going to get you anywhere._

Dad did he miss them. His eyes burned for half a moment but he resolutely blinked it away.

At least one of his siblings was there. Castiel sat opposite the sofa, eyes wide in alarm and concern. He kept opening his mouth as if to say something, then would simply close it again. He’d been rudely awakened like they all had when Lucifer had started shrieking and gasping for air. And Cassie was already having a time of it because angels weren’t even supposed to sleep-

_Sam_. Not Lucifer. Dad above, this wasn’t how they were supposed to be. Gabriel was the baby, he wasn’t supposed to be the one in charge! It’s why Loki had been his true vessel: the show-off, goof-off, trouble-maker, mischief-lover, youngest brother. Not the responsible one in charge of things. Anyone who handed him responsibility deserved what they got. He wasn’t supposed to be doing this, watching out for his older brothers, scrabbling to prevent whatever his other siblings had in store.

Protecting them, though. That was always something he would do. He didn’t have to be the oldest brother to feel that drive in his blood and Grace, the urge to keep them safe. It continued to grow each moment he was Gabriel and not the trickster. He was losing his bitter shell, the shield of Loki he’d held onto for so damn long because it was easier.

He couldn’t decide whether he was upset about it or not.

Right. Time to start moving and help. Responsibility. Boy did it suck. Cassie or Sam-a-lam first?

Castiel took the decision out of his hands, thankfully, by slowly moving over to kneel beside where Sam was curled up on the sofa. His hand hesitantly rested on Sam’s shoulder, and he began to speak in a very low tone. Sam tensed, but only for a moment, and then he began to relax. Dean himself looked like someone had slapped him before he shut his eyes tight. Curiosity brought Gabriel closer.

Singer intercepted him before he could hear what Cassie was saying. “These are gettin’ worse,” he said lowly. “First in the car with the flashback, then last night, now this?”

Flashback? “What flashback?” Gabriel said. Dean glanced up at that, and Gabriel dug into his thoughts without hesitation or remorse. Wasn’t that deep down anyway, not as Dean recalled what had happened as they’d driven down. The blue lips, the choked inhales, the massive amount of _fear_ in Lucifer’s eyes-

Gabriel pulled himself back and realized he was trembling. Terror immediately turned to anger. “Next time,” he snapped, “fucking _tell me_ when this shit happens, _Dean-o_.”

Dean didn’t say anything at his outburst, and guilt swirled in Gabriel’s gut. He didn’t like it. He didn’t _do_ guilt anymore, and Dad-damn this asshole for pulling the big brother card on him like he was Michael, like he _cared_ -

The urge to fly off somewhere was nearly overwhelming him. _Just take a deep breath, Gabe,_ he could hear Michael telling him, and he closed his eyes at the memory. _Deep breath, dude. Then come sit over here before you make me dizzy._

Wait. Not a memory. Dean, _Michael_ , praying to him and talking without speaking. An uncomfortable warmth crept up his neck and into his face.

This was Michael. He had another name now, but Dean Winchester had always resembled Michael in more than just looks. And now, apparently, that included being able to read Gabriel like a book. He wondered what Dean had dreamed about before Sam had woken them all up.

He cleared his throat and wandered closer to the sofa. “So, uh, getting worse. Right. How’s he doing now?” he asked, subdued.

“Still shivering.” Dean pulled the blanket tighter around Sam to no real effect. “Is this something you can do something about? He feels cold, too. Like, icy cold to the touch.”

That…wasn’t right. Gabriel put his hand out and rested it against Sam’s forehead. Dean had been generous about the “icy cold” because Sam was frigid. He pulled his Grace forward, warm and sure, and pressed it into Sam’s soul and being. His skin began to turn pink and his shivering abated.

Then his Grace brushed against something _colddarksharpWRONG_ and he flew back at the same time that Sam screamed and arched upward. Gabriel immediately threw sound barriers up around the suite even as Sam’s screams faded into pained whimpers.

Dean immediately grabbed hold of his brother. “Sam! _Sammy_!” Sam shuddered but managed a tight nod even as he shook. Dean turned to Gabriel, and Gabriel expected the panic. He’d also expected some pissed off Winchester, but what he got was concern. “What the hell happened? Are you okay? Gabriel!”

Gabriel blinked and realized he was pressed against the wall of the suite, panting heavily. He could still feel the ice running through his arm and deep into his Grace. It had burned, was still burning, and pressing against his very being, ice coating his wings and locking him down to the ground-

“ _Gabriel_.”

Lucifer’s voice pulled him back to the here and now. Gabriel’s Grace flared up and surrounded him like a blanket, and he felt the ice melt away. When he managed to focus his eyes outward, he realized that Lucifer was hunched over but sitting up on the sofa, and Michael was standing in front of Gabriel, hand tentatively reaching for him. Both looked worried.

“Gabe, talk to me,” Michael said. “You’re freaking me out here.”

It was the language that brought Gabriel all the way back. Dean, Sam. Not his brothers. Though it was harder to convince himself of that whenever there was such blatant concern being thrown his way.

He pulled himself back together as best he could. “I’m fine. Let’s not do that again, though.”

“Yeah, let’s not,” Sam said. Though pinker and having shed some of his blankets, he still looked weak and worn-out. “That was the opposite of fun.”

“What _was_ that?” Dean asked. “Because Sam looked like he’d been hit by lightning, and you’re still shaking.”

He was? Dammit. He really was. “And you’re cold,” Dean continued, his hand grasping the back of Gabriel’s neck. The warmth actually managed to dig through the cold he could still feel. “What the hell?”

“Ice pocket,” Gabriel said, then shrugged when Dean glared at him. “What? It’s as close as I can get to an explanation. An ice pocket. A really, really, _really_ cold ice pocket.”

One that had felt all types of wrong and had frozen him straight to the ground. Even left his wings locked down. No ice on Earth could do that. It was as if he’d been too weak to get himself free. Like the ice had stolen his energy.

“Yeah. It, uh. Felt like that flashback from before.” Sam shuddered. “Sorry, Gabe.”

“Hey, not your fault Samshine. Nobody could’ve seen that coming.” He still wasn’t even sure what it was.

Singer shook his head and moved to sit next to Sam. He rested a hand against Sam’s forehead as if testing for a fever. Whatever he found seemed to at least leave him satisfied for the moment, because he moved his hand back to rest on Sam’s shoulder. Sam gave him a weak smile. “I said it was gettin’ worse,” Singer said. He didn’t look happy about his own assessment. “If I had to take a guess, it’s like he’s still down in that Cage thing.”

Gabriel had been struck by lightning a few times in his existence – being next to Thor on a regular basis sort of increased your chances. But it felt almost like that, the heat that soared through him as his entire being put two and two together and came up with _oh shit_. He glanced at Dean and found him coming to the same realization. Horror dawned in Dean’s eyes.

Somehow, Gabriel must have messed up. He had to have. How the hell else could Lucifer have come away with a piece of the Cage inside him?

“What?”

Everyone turned to Lucifer ( _Sam Sam Samshine Sam-a-lam_ ) who was watching them with trepidation. “What’s going on?” he asked, but it sounded almost rhetorical. Like he knew.

Shame choked Gabriel, and he turned away. This wasn’t what he was supposed to do. He wasn’t supposed to be responsible and this was why: because he screwed it up. He always screwed it up.

“Is it even possible for there to be a part of the Cage in his soul?” Dean asked. “I remember…”

He paused, glanced at Sam, then started again, his voice softer. “I remember what you told me, Gabe, when we agreed to fall. You said that we could move in and out of the Cage because it wasn’t tied to our Graces. But Lucifer couldn’t do the same.”

Gabriel swallowed hard. Gabe, he’d been called. Like Mic-like _Dean_ still cared. Well, that was about to change. Guess this was another personal development moment: he’d learned to apologize and now he was going to learn to fess up. “I thought I’d severed the bond between Luce and the Cage,” he admitted. “That, that cold pocket, that’s not something that should’ve been there. There shouldn’t _be_ anything left of the Cage.”

“But that’s what you felt,” Sam said quietly. “Wasn’t it.” It wasn’t a question.

Slowly he nodded. “Yeah. That was definitely the Cage, but not in any way I’ve experienced.”

“Lucifer’s experience,” Castiel said. He didn’t sound as bewildered or lost as he’d been earlier, when he’d gotten his memories back, so at least Gabriel could still do something right. “You felt Lucifer’s experience. Not just the Cage, but his direct experience within it.”

“So we were wrong,” Dean said, and Gabriel refused to flinch, forced himself to lift his chin high, before his mind managed to grasp the _we_ instead of _you_. “It wasn’t just tied to his Grace. It was tied to _him_ completely. His whole being. It was worse than we knew.”

That was…less recriminating than he’d anticipated. “So it’d still be in his Grace, too,” Singer said. “Balls. So much for joinin’ ‘em back up to their Graces and endin’ the Apocalypse that way.”

“I couldn’t do it anyway,” Gabriel said. Because why not compound bad news with more bad news?

“What? Why not?” Dean demanded.

“Well, for one, as soon as I do that, you’ll alert the entire Host to where you are and that’s not entirely something you want to happen just yet. But most of all, remember that Mark I told you about? That is definitely tied to Lucifer all over. So the instant that we rejoin his Grace, I’m worried that the Mark will slip free of Cain and run straight to its original owner.”

Sam paled. “So…as soon as I get my Grace back, it undoes everything?” he asked.

“Puts you back at square one. Yeah. So I wasn’t exactly in a rush to get you back to your Graces until I’d figured out how to ensure the Mark stayed with Cain. Which I haven’t gotten to yet.” He hadn’t even begun to try and figure that piece out. It shouldn’t even _be_ his decision because clearly, he didn’t know what the hell he was doing.

“There’s also what War said,” Castiel said. Gabriel rolled his eyes because if he didn’t, he was going to take off as fast as his wings could carry him. He couldn’t deal with this. Not with the thought that he’d screwed up enough that Lucifer would never be _Lucifer_ again. And if Lucifer couldn’t get his Grace back, Michael would never take his, and this would all be for nothing. His brothers would live and die mortal lives.

“Now what?” he snapped, drumming his fingers on his arm. He missed the look that Dean and Sam shared.

Castiel took a deep breath. “He spoke to Famine on the phone. He said he would meet him in a week in Cincinnati, Ohio. There is…some sort of an event that Famine intended to participate in. War told him it was disgusting but ‘to each their own’,” he quoted. He put finger quotes around each individual word, and it was almost enough to make Gabriel grin. “Whatever it is, we’ll need to stop it.”

The last thing Gabriel wanted to do was deal with more Horsemen. Unfortunately, unless he solved the Mark problem in less than a week, Famine was their next best target. “We need to hit the road tomorrow, then,” Sam said. “It’ll take a while to get to Cincinnati.”

“Not if we travel Angel Mail,” Gabriel said. “Cassie and I can carry the whole group.”

Castiel’s shoulders dropped, and he hung his head. Something dark curled in Gabriel’s belly at the sight of his little brother so…defeated. “What’s the matter?” he asked.

Cassie bit his lip – something he had to have learned from Sam, no doubt – but his words left Gabriel frozen to the spot. “I could…if I were still an angel.”

The world sort of did a spinny thing, and it reminded Gabriel of how he’d lived it up in the 1960s and 1970s. Good times. This didn’t feel like a good time. In fact, whatever he’d imbibed, he’d like to not have any more. It made him see things, like Dean’s look of heartbreak and Sam’s wide eyes of pain. It made him hear things that set his heart rate completely off the charts and he didn’t even have to _have_ his heart beat, which meant he had no control, of course he had no control he couldn’t even manage to help Lucifer or Michael right-

“Okay, time out,” Sam ordered, pushing himself to his feet. He rocked a little, causing Dean to start reaching for him, but he remained standing. “One thing at a time. Gabriel, you said you could feel Castiel, that’s how you knew he wasn’t dead. Right?”

Gabriel could only manage a nod. “So you felt his Grace, I’m assuming. Can you feel it now?”

Pushing the panic down, Gabriel gently brushed his Grace against Castiel. A whisper of Grace answered him, and he nearly collapsed in relief. “Yeah. Weak as hell but it’s there. I can fix that.” He could. He _would_.

“I’m…I’m still an angel?” Castiel whispered. Dean shut his eyes tight and took a few deep breaths.

“Still winged, kiddo. Trust me.”

Surprisingly, Castiel did. Showed how stupid the kid was, trusting him.

“So still an angel, not a human,” Sam said, and Gabriel had forgotten how much he’d appreciated the tenacity of the man, the determination and stubbornness to keep going when the odds were stacked against them. It was one of Lucifer’s best qualities, the can-do spirit combined with a mind that stayed three steps ahead of everyone else. “Famine we can’t do anything about but we have a date and we have a location. That’s as handled as we can get it. Bobby, do you have books about the Mark of Cain?”

“Not as many texts as I’d like, but enough to give us some traction.”

“I’ll take it. Gabriel can take you back to your place tomorrow and help you gather them up, and you can meet us on the road. We’ll take Castiel with us, let him keep resting and gathering his strength.”

“The less we tax his Grace, the better,” Dean chimed in. “Any books about the Horsemen would be great too.”

“What about, well, you?” Singer asked. “You got a plan about this whole Cage thing?”

Sam shrugged. “Not really. Unless someone knows of a way to rip part of my soul out.”

“Not a good idea,” Gabriel finally said. “Trust me.” No, soulless wasn’t going to be a good look on Sam. He’d caught that show already with Lucifer and the Mark. He wasn’t looking to repeat it.

Dean looked thoughtful for a moment. “It’s a memory, right?” he asked. “That thing with the Cage is a memory?”

“Pushed by a remnant of the Cage, yeah,” Gabriel said. “In fact, I’d bet serious moolah that it’s what’s keeping the rest of his memories at bay. He spent enough time in the Cage for it to mess with all his memories. Here we thought it was because he just couldn’t remember. Turns out, it’s for a whole other crappy reason,” he muttered bitterly.

“Hey.”

Gabriel slowly lifted his gaze from the floor to Sam and Dean. Both were watching him with what Gabriel could only describe as a soft but fierce look. It was one he remembered all too well from Michael and Lucifer. “This wasn’t your fault,” Sam said firmly. “I would still be down there if it wasn’t for you and Michael. You got me _out_. Just because the Cage decided to latch on and force me to take part of it with me doesn’t mean you screwed up or something. So stop beating up on my little brother.”

“Ditto,” Dean said. “Knock it off. We’d be in a way uglier mess if it wasn’t for you.”

The words came out unbidden. “I should’ve seen it,” Gabriel argued. “I should’ve figured that, but I was too busy trying to run and hide as soon as it was done. I didn’t do it right, and I’m sorry.”

“There was no way to do it right,” Dean said. “Dude, you did the best you could. And that’s good enough for us.”

Something unfurled inside of him, somewhere deep down where he was pretty sure nothing had seen the light of day in eons. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, one foot hooked over another. “So you’re saying I’m the best,” he said, and the smirk he gave didn’t feel forced. “I always knew you’d come around to that.”

“Best at being annoying,” Dean shot back, but the look in his eyes was fond. _Michael, I miss you,_ Gabriel couldn’t help but think wistfully. So close.

Sam shut his eyes, but this time he wavered on his feet. In an instant Gabriel was by his side and propping him up. “Easy, Samshine,” he murmured as Dean took the other side. “How about bed, hmm? I think you can get a few more hours of sleep. _Undisturbed_ sleep, trust me,” when it looked like Sam might argue with him.

Sam sagged against him so fast Gabriel had to nearly pull out his wings to keep himself steady. “Whoa, easy, _easy_ -“

Singer grabbed Dean’s side, allowing Dean to move to the front. “Sammy?” he asked, hands cupping cheeks that had gone pale again. “Sammy?”

“M’still here,” Sam mumbled. “Jus’…”

Tired. Exhausted, still weak from whatever the Cage had struck him with. “Right, time for all good little Winchesters to be in bed,” Gabriel said. He snapped his fingers and they were right next to Sam’s bed. Sam fell in with little hesitation. After ensuring he was safely ensconced, Singer took his leave, shaking his head and muttering about angels and flying.

Dean scowled at Gabriel. “Quit doing that,” he said. “You’re the only one with juice at this point. Don’t waste it on little stuff like this. Much as I wanted him in bed, we could’ve carried him.”

“I’m not a seraph,” Gabriel pointed out. “My Grace doesn’t get taxed, not like Cassie’s. I’ve got Grace that goes for miles compared to his that only goes a few yards.” Which, honestly, Cassie’s shouldn’t have that limited a range of Grace, but he had a feeling that had more to do with how Heaven was being run at the moment. Maybe they’d been keeping better track of Castiel than he’d originally thought. “So I can still help.”

_Unless you don’t want me to._ Gabriel angrily shoved the thought as far down as he could.

Dean’s glare softened. “I know you can,” he said. “I just…the last thing I want to do is burn you out. Don’t wear yourself out, Gabe. Keep that flame burning.”

Gabriel swallowed. So he _had_ gotten more memories. “Not flickering,” he managed. Dean clapped him on the shoulder and turned back to Sam, fussing over him and ensuring he was still responding.

_“I can do it,” Gabriel said. “I want to. Let me deliver the message, Father.”_

_“Patience, Gabriel. I will do this message.”_

_Father disappeared, leaving Gabriel ignored once more. He thought he had done a good delivery this time, had put emphasis and encouragement into his words. Perhaps…perhaps he hadn’t done it well enough?_

_“He just wants to see his creation for himself.”_

_Michael stood before him, eyes bright green and soft. “It’s been some time since he has visited them. I think he was jealous of you having all the fun,” Michael joked with a grin._

_“You think I did well?” Gabriel asked him. Lucifer would’ve softened the blow of the truth, and Raphael would have changed the topic. Michael would give him the truth._

_Michael brought both hands up to cup his countenance. “We worry about you, little bird,” he said quietly. “You are a strong light, but even the brightest of lights can burn out.”_

_His eyes drifted to the side, and Gabriel knew it wasn’t him that Michael saw just then. It made Gabriel’s worry shift to Lucifer, too. He was so angry all the time, now._

_“Like a candle,” Gabriel said. “Or an oil lamp.” He didn’t know which one he preferred, but both held such a soft, sweet glow. Father wasn’t the only one who enjoyed spending time with people._

_Michael’s gaze went back to him, and he smiled. “Just so. Don’t burn out, Gabe. Keep that flame burning.”_

_“I won’t so much as flicker,” Gabriel promised him. It was a promise he would remember through the years as Loki, when he’d felt like giving up._

He glanced down at Sam on the bed. Sam’s eyes were shut, and they appeared almost sunken. He was pale again, and Gabriel could’ve sworn he’d started shivering again, too.

Dean stood beside him, hand resting on top of Sam’s head. His worry was visible and easy to see, and his free hand clenched into a helpless fist of frustration.

Time to be responsible. He reached around Dean and pressed two fingers to Sam’s forehead. Sam immediately slumped into real rest, the tension gone. “He’ll sleep now, and he won’t be cold,” Gabriel said, eyes still glowing with his Grace. “You need sleep, too.”

Dean didn’t move. Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Bed,” he growled. “Or I’ll knock you out, too.”

That finally earned him a scowl, but it was lined with a tired grin. “Asshole,” Dean muttered.

“Proud of it. Got the badge and pin and everything. Pretty sure I’m the president of the club.”

Dean snorted but moved over to his bed, directly across from Sam’s. Only when Dean closed his eyes did Gabriel move to do the same for him. He hadn’t really been joking about the whole knocking him out thing. They still had a few good hours until morning.

When he put his fingers to Dean’s temple, however, Dean opened his eyes. “Thanks, Gabe,” he said quietly. “For keeping track of everything.”

Gabriel didn’t answer, couldn’t. He quickly sent Dean off to sleep and turned to see if Singer needed an angel sleep-aid too. It let him take a moment to compose himself. These two idiots had always had too much faith in him, too much trust. They’d always believed in him, and even now, when he’d messed it all up, they were still by his side.

_Just because the Cage decided to latch on and force me to take part of it with me doesn’t mean you screwed up or something._

Gabriel stilled in the doorway. An idea began to blossom in his mind, taking root and growing faster and faster until he was nearly vibrating with it. Maybe. Just _maybe._

Maybe he could fix this.


	8. Chapter 8

Cincinnati was just as busy as Sam remembered it. The museums always tempted him, but so far, there had never been enough time to stop. One of these days, Sam was going to force his brother to pull over and leave him at the art museum for a few hours.

Unfortunately, his other brother had control of the travel plans, and he was just as disinclined to hit up a museum as Dean was. After taking Bobby home for books and some “time to breathe without you two, I love you like my own but I could do without the stress that comes from bein’ next to a Winchester for a bit,” Gabriel had come back and immediately transported them all to a high-rise hotel. He’d even brought the Impala, which he assured Dean was parked in the parking garage attached to the hotel. Sam had moved to put his computer on the table. Dean had moved to check out the mini-bar.

Castiel had moved to immediately sit on the floor. Sam had raced over and beaten Dean and Gabriel by a matter of seconds. The angel had been ashen and trembling. “I think I need to lie down again,” he’d admitted.

Sam glanced away from the window over to where the angel was currently sleeping on one of the beds. His color was marginally better, and he’d even consented to having his trench coat removed which left him looking almost small. He’d always been smaller than the other fledglings, and there had been a serious fear that he’d wander down to Earth and get lost. Sam closed his eyes at the brief surge of memory.

Dean was out getting food and had insisted on something spicy to put some color back in Castiel’s face. Surprisingly, Gabriel had let him go instead of snapping food together. Sam hoped that it was because he’d come to realize that sometimes Dean needed his space, and not because he was worn out from two transportations.

Whatever the reason, it didn’t seem to be stopping him from trying to help his younger sibling. Gabriel sat next to Castiel, palm placed gently on the angel’s brow. Despite being intent on helping Castiel, he seemed…distracted. Had been, ever since Sam’s nightmare the night before. “How’s his Grace?” Sam asked quietly.

Gabriel pursed his lips. “Not great,” he admitted. “I can’t tell how much of this was from War and how much of it was from Raphael cutting him into pieces.”

“Why would Raphael _do_ that?”

“Heaven’s laws are absolute,” Gabriel said bitterly. “And Raphael is following orders. Not that that makes it much better but he was protecting a prophet. Cassie was the danger. Cut and dry.”

It made Sam feel a little better, but only just. He didn’t remember much of Raphael besides teasing him, but it had been affectionate, brotherly. Raphael was supposed to be the healer. Not righteous wrath.

“Uh, not to poke in on your mental parade there, Sammich, but all archangels hold righteous wrath in their back pocket. Raphael just usually didn’t utilize his. That’s what Michael was for. And you, to an extent. You were usually the thinker that aimed Michael in whatever direction he needed to go. Not so dissimilar to how you two are now.”

Sam began to respond, then stopped and put his response into a loud, aimed thought instead. _I dare you to tell Dean that I got to boss him around and tell him where to go._

“I’m almost afraid to ask how stupid you think I am.”

Sam snorted even as Gabriel grinned. “Not that stupid,” Sam admitted. “So what was your gig? If Raphael was the healer and I was the thinker-“

“Always three steps ahead of everyone,” Gabriel interrupted.

“-and Michael was the sword, what were you? Just the messenger?”

“Hey, look, that messenger gig was strenuous and difficult. I wasn’t just a messenger for people, y’know. Who do you think helped move the massive herds of animals towards the Arks?”

Sam stopped. “Arks, as in plural?” he asked.

Gabriel just raised an eyebrow. “That flood caused serious damage in a host of regions. Tell me you haven’t read the stories from Greece, Mesopotamia, and the Bible. And it was _not_ easy. Trust me. None of the goats wanted to listen.”

The thought of Gabriel yelling in what Sam could only presume as goat-language to a pair of stubborn goats bleeting at him made him grin despite himself. If there was any justice in the world, he would’ve had to do it multiple times, once for each ark.

“I also gave directions to the angels. Who else better to give directions from Dad than an archangel?”

There was something dark in his tone, something very bitter, and Sam’s smile fell. It took a minute but Sam realized just what had set Gabriel off. “It’s not your fault,” he said. Gabriel stiffened but didn’t look his way. “Heaven getting out of control and taking bad orders. That’s not on you.”

“Really?” Gabriel said with a huff. “So the messenger disappears and stops giving orders, and when they start listening to someone else giving really fucking bad advice, that’s not on me?”

“Who were you taking messages from?” Sam said, crossing his arms. “Pretty sure you couldn’t give messages if Father disappeared and left you nothing to say.”

“I could’ve definitely told them something. I wouldn’t have had _nothing_ to say.”

“Gabe, this isn’t your fault,” he insisted. “Someone up there is taking advantage of Father being gone and is determined to not only bend Heaven to their will, but also clear Earth of its current occupants. You could’ve wound up like Cas, brainwashed into forgetting me and Michael.”

Gabriel glanced at him then, pain so vivid in his eyes that Sam took a step towards him to comfort. He stopped in his tracks when Gabriel held up a hand. The archangel gave a laugh that twisted his face until he looked about to cry. “Dad above, you sure you didn’t get your Grace back somehow, Luce?” he asked. “Because you sound just like my big brother.”

It brought Sam back to himself, the Sam Winchester part of himself. Because he’d gotten so into Gabriel’s self-loathing that he hadn’t hesitated, he’d moved to help. And he’d found himself calling God ‘Father’ just like he had the day he’d had the flashback in the Impala.

He’d feared losing himself to the devil, when he’d been told that he was Lucifer reborn. Now, though, he was realizing that maybe, just maybe, Dean and Gabriel had been right. That Lucifer had been good and just gotten lost. Much as he had.

Maybe…maybe he could be found, too.

This time, he didn’t hesitate, just walked over to Gabriel. The archangel watched him approach warily, as if waiting for him to strike. Gently he placed his hand on a tense shoulder. “I don’t remember much except for the Cage,” Sam said quietly. “I wish I did. But that doesn’t make me any less him. We’ll get there.”

He took a breath in and watched Gabriel’s eyes shine in the light. “And I don’t need my Grace to be your brother,” he added.

The sound of the door opening and shutting gave Sam a good reason to leave Gabriel be for a bit. It also gave him a minute to think to himself too before facing his other brother. The one who’d dropped everything to stay with him. The one who was still on his side.

The one who could read him like an open book, which he did as soon as Sam walked into the main room and found Dean putting out their dinner options. Dean took one look at him and frowned. “What happened?” he asked.

“It’s nothing-“

“Okay, see, when you say ‘nothing’ what it really means is ‘something’ so let’s try that again,” Dean said. “What happened?”

Sam pursed his lips. “Just…worried about Cas and Gabe. That’s all.” That was close enough.

One eyebrow rose, and Dean’s face didn’t change from unimpressed. “And?” he prompted when Sam didn’t say anything. “What about you?”

“What about me?” Sam said, suddenly feeling mulish. Why couldn’t he ever just take Sam’s word at face value? Why couldn’t he just _trust_ Sam?

_He does trust you. He’s proven it time and time again. What he doesn’t trust is you taking care of yourself._

There was some part of him that seriously needed to shut up. As if sensing Sam’s change in mood, Dean pressed again, with a soft, “Sammy,” that reminded Sam of so many moments over the years. He’d hated that nickname as a teen, didn’t want to be seen as the kid brother who couldn’t do anything right by their dad.

Now, though, he understood what it meant: it was affection and love in the easiest way Dean knew how to show it.

He could match that now with the truth. “I want to believe what you keep saying. About Lucifer being good but just getting lost. I just…”

“Feels too much like forgiveness?”

Sam froze. Dean gave him a knowing look. Read him like a book: more like read him like an x-ray, able to see through him in an instant. “Because god knows you don’t deserve it, right?” Dean continued. “And if we’re right about Lucifer – which we are, by the way – then that means that maybe you’re forgiven, too?”

“I just feel so lost. I don’t know what to do with that,” Sam confessed. Because Dean’s love and trust were very separate from forgiveness. And the idea of being forgiven, absolved of this big thing that he didn’t know how to let go of-

Dean face was pained, as if Sam’s words physically hurt him. “And I don’t know how to help you with that,” he admitted, and it sounded like the words were being wrenched out of him without his permission. “I don’t know if I can. I want to, I so want to Sammy.”

He shook his head, and suddenly he turned on Sam, angrier and more frustrated than Sam had seen in days. “It’s killing me, watching you chew my brother out over and over again for something I don’t blame him for and I’d really like to let go of. I’d like you to let it go too, and maybe even realize my brother’s awesome and I’m sick of you cutting him down to size? Or maybe, and this is just an idea, forgive yourself?”

Sam stared at his brother, mouth hanging opening in stunned silence. The fight went out of Dean in an instant, leaving him weary and almost desperate. He headed for the bedroom to presumably get Gabriel, but paused long enough to put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “I know you feel like it, but you’re not lost,” he said softly. “And even if you were, I’d always come find you.”

This time it was Sam left alone for a minute to compose himself. He swallowed hard and wrapped his arms around himself in the ensuing stillness. Somewhere, the air conditioner kicked on with a loud clank and whirl, and he jumped at the intrusion of noise.

Forgive himself. He’d have an easier time getting to the moon. But Dean wanted him to try, was desperate for him to take the forgiveness he was offering. He looked wounded at the thought of Sam not accepting it. Had even gotten angry for the first time in ages, righteous anger on Sam’s behalf. If that wasn’t enough to make him feel small, he didn’t know what was.

Maybe he didn’t move on for himself. Maybe he took the forgiveness for Dean’s sake. He could do that. That was a worthy enough reason to try and forgive himself, let Dean forgive him. If he trusted Dean, then he had to believe what Dean said. And Dean trusted him.

So did Castiel. He could still hear the angel’s words as he’d curled up against Dean’s warmth after the last nightmare. Soft, gentle, heartbreaking. _“You taught me how to curl my wings so I could trail a single feather into the ocean. I missed once and you scooped me out of the water and gathered me against you, held me tight as we ascended back to Heaven. You dried me off and even lied to Raphael about what had happened, told him it was a passing rain shower. I leaned on you and Gabriel because you always encouraged me to be my own individual. I missed you when you left. I…insisted that you would never hate humanity. I was one of the first they ‘reeducated’. But I kept remembering until I didn’t. I’m glad I do now. I would suffer all the Horsemen and Zachariahs if it meant I had you and Michael back. Or at the very least, I got to keep Sam and Dean Winchester.”_

He let out a shaky breath and shivered in the too-cool air. For now, he had to turn the A/C down and…and get something to eat. Real food. Without letting his appetite wane. That was a start, right?

The week passed slowly as Castiel regained strength. Sam desperately wanted to talk to Dean or Gabriel again, but he couldn’t find it within himself to start the conversation. He tried in smaller ways, like teasing Gabriel and, even once, helping Gabriel prank Dean. The surprised delight he got from Dean was worth the resulting short-sheeting of his bed he got that night.

The days weren’t the problem. It was the nights that were taxing all of them as Sam fought in his nightmares to gather air and stave off the ice. Gabriel continued to spend more energy and Grace keeping the Cage memories from tearing at Sam. The one night he didn’t, Sam woke with his chest aching and Dean looking stricken. “Hurts,” Sam gasped out.

“Yeah. CPR sorta does that.”

Dean’s ashen face told Sam the rest. Gabriel’s silence when he healed the broken ribs was also telling. Castiel just stood to the side, looking even more lost than the other two combined.

Over the counter sleep medication wasn’t working – in fact, one of them had led to the night with CPR, and Dean threw the medication into the trash so violently that it tore the bag. Sam resolutely stayed up the next night to allow the others to rest and got blasted the next morning for his efforts. “It’s not even sleep at this point, not really,” he argued.

“It’s still sleep,” Dean countered, glaring at him. “It’s not worth sacrificing your rest for ours. Do it again and I’ll kick your ass.”

The only good thing from the whole debacle was that he got nearly six hours of sleep later that morning when he finally crashed, and it was all dreamless. The bad part was that the other three were on high alert the entire time he slept, jumping at the slightest murmur on Sam’s part, and checking his breathing when he’d gone too still.

That same afternoon, Gabriel went to get Bobby. Bobby took one look at them and shook his head. “Glad to see everyone looking so great,” he drawled. “A week in a nice hotel and the four of you look like hell.” He didn’t say anything when Sam and Dean both flipped him off, which Sam thought was pretty decent of him, because they did all look like crap.

Still, he brought along the books on the Horsemen, which helped add to Gabriel’s admittedly limited knowledge, and the three books he had on the Mark, most of which they already knew. Gabriel still took the three books and moved to one of the bedrooms, leaving the rest with the other texts. Sam glanced at Dean who just shrugged. Well, Gabriel _was_ their best means of dealing with the Mark. That meant they could focus their attention on narrowing down the list of events that Famine might hit.

“So get this,” Sam said on the evening before War was supposed to have met Famine. Gabriel poked his head out of the room, and four pairs of eyes swung his way. “Cincinnati, Ohio, is going to host a huge hot dog eating contest tomorrow. Like, Major League Eating, huge.”

Dean sat up straighter. “Wait. That’s a thing?”

“Hot dogs, ribs, donuts, pies, even oysters. They cover everything.”

“How come I’m not in this?” Dean said, a hint of a pout on his face.

“Somethin’ about savin’ the world,” Bobby said dryly. “But sure, we’ll sign you up for the next one in all that free time you’ve got.”

Gabriel gave a slow nod. “This is definitely something Famine would hit. I think you’ve got it. It would’ve disgusted War to no end, that’s for sure.”

“Wait, hold on. Gluttony, yeah, but Famine? This seems…not his thing.”

One of the books had what Sam was looking for, and he tossed it Dean’s way and pointed to the bookmarked page. “Famine leaves a huge hunger inside of people. They gorge themselves to death.”

“Or satisfy their hunger for something else,” Gabriel pointed out. “It’s not just food. Power, sex, even peace and quiet, it’s all a possibility. And it all ends in a lot of people dying or killing other people. All under his control.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Peace and quiet, that’s a craving of mine that’ll never be filled. Now sex on the other hand-“

“Later, Dean,” Castiel said. “I do not want to hear about your several evenings with ‘women’,” and he put finger air-quotes around the last word.

The look of outrage on Dean’s face made Sam bite his lip. Hard. “Several?” he finally sputtered. “And what’s with the air-quotes? They were women, not swamp monsters!”

“You sure about that, Dean-o?” Gabriel asked innocently.

Sam managed to cough in time, but only just. If looks could kill, Dean’s would’ve incinerated him on the spot. “Something to say, Sam?” he said, voice dangerously low.

“Of course not,” Sam said. “I’m just wondering about that one girl from Tallahassee-“

“Ooh, interested party here! Details or it didn’t happen.”

“We are _not_ talking about that,” Dean said, glaring at both Sam and Gabriel. His cheeks were turning bright red, though.

Castiel sat up straighter in his chair. “Your face has turned an unusual shade of red. Are you in pain?” His face gave away nothing, but Sam could’ve sworn that through his eyes, he could see his Grace dance in amusement.

“It’s one of the few times I got called to pick him up along the side of the road mostly naked,” Sam said cheerfully.

“ _Few_ times?”

“If you’re all done, we have actual work to do,” Dean said through gritted teeth. His face neatly matched the tomato on Sam’s sandwich.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “You’re definitely Michael. He could be a total stick in the mud, too.”

“I distinctly remember him pulling a prank on you with Lucifer’s help,” Castiel said. “He wasn’t always, as you so put it, a ‘stick in the mud’.”

Sam glanced at Dean who was suddenly far more interested in swapping stories. Gabriel’s cheeks went pink. “Don’t make me regret giving you your memories back, kiddo,” he said shortly.

“Whenever you princesses are done sharin’ slumber party stories, we do have actual work to do,” Bobby said, but he grinned.

“Spoilsport,” Dean muttered as he turned back to the book Sam had tossed him. “So how do we handle Famine? And don’t say you do,” he said, pointing at Gabriel. “If Sam hadn’t been there, War would’ve killed you. And that’s not something I want. Ever.”

Gabriel’s lips turned up at the blatant concern. “Well, there’s good news and bad on that,” he said. “Good news is that Famine is, last I looked, a frail being. He’s not as fast as War, so a fist fight isn’t likely.”

Sam bit his lip. “And the bad?” he asked.

“He usually travels with an entourage of demons. And his mind and powers? Not frail.”

Demons. The last time Sam had met up with a demon, he’d killed her. Well, two demons in two women, and he’d killed them both, if he could count Ruby. The thought of her made his stomach turn. If he’d just stayed with Dean, if he’d just _listened_ -

“That’s on Sam.”

Sam jerked, startled. “If he wants to,” Dean continued. “I mean, that’s his choice.”

“What is?” he asked cautiously. Because they seriously couldn’t have been talking about…that. Well, Gabriel could read his mind, and that sent Sam’s heart racing because if he had and he’d told Dean-

“Easy, Samshine,” Gabriel said. “Holy crap your brain is spinning like a top. I haven’t told Dean any of what you’re thinking, but if I did, the only thing he’d do would be to slap you for thinking it.”

It was Sam’s turn to go red in the face, and it wasn’t for any fun reason. Dean pinned him with a glare that was frustration and even some disappointment for good measure. Sam sunk into his chair even further.

“Dean was talkin’ about your shining,” Bobby said, breaking through the tension. “If you’d be willin’ to give it a go with the demons that Famine has.”

Sam froze. Bobby gave no sign that he was disgusted with the idea or begrudgingly giving it merit. Neither did Castiel or Gabriel. And while Dean still looked pissed off, he hadn’t been until Gabriel had all but told him what Sam was thinking about. He’d given his verbal agreement days ago, but it was one thing to say it and another thing to suggest it, to mean it.

He didn’t need the demon blood to use his powers. Or so he’d been told. Would using his powers make him want it again? Would he be able to even do it? What if Dean saw him using his powers and changed his mind, thought Sam was a monster?

“No,” he said, and he was mortified to find his voice trembling, his eyes burning. He cleared his throat and tried to put strength behind his words. “No, that’s, no.”

“Sam-“

“No,” he said firmly. “Absolutely not.”

Surprisingly, Dean pushed back. “And why not?”

It was almost more than Sam could handle. “Why not?” he said, sputtering a harsh laugh. “Why _not_? I’m sorry, where have you been for the past year?”

Dean pursed his lips. “Telling you crap I shouldn’t have. You were so keen on listening to me when I was plugging shit from on high, why can’t you believe me like that now?”

Because when Dean said Heaven told him he had to be stopped, it had echoed everything that Sam had believed since he’d seen Azazel feed him demon blood as an infant. To understand that Heaven was flawed, to hear that his powers weren’t potentially evil, that they believed in him and wanted him to do what they’d told him would send him straight to Hell-

And Dean wanted him to, what, just accept that and say, “Oh, okay,” and move on in a matter of minutes?

“Have you lost your mind?” Sam snapped. “I tried desperately to do things the right way and wound up doing horrible things. I drank _demon blood_ and nearly _killed you_.”

“Well, glad to see that anything we’ve talked about means so much to you,” Dean deadpanned. His gaze was heated and his nostrils were flared. “It’s like talking to a brick wall sometimes, I swear to god-“

“I’m sorry if I can’t just forget everything I was told for so long, and by _you_ , not just Heaven, it’s not that easy to just _let go of_ -“

“Okay,” Gabriel said, and with a snap of his fingers Sam found himself alone in the hotel room. “Time out for everyone.”

“What did you do with everyone else?” Sam asked.

“The park outside the hotel, right near the parking garage.” Gabriel sat down in one of the seats with a heavy sigh. “Boy, did I forget that when you two could get into it, it was a doozy.”

Yeah, make humanity extinct sort of a doozy. It made Sam’s stomach twist in a way that stole his very breath.

Gabriel snorted. “Honestly, I was sort of expecting this at some point. The two of you have been nauseatingly agreeable. Time for you two to blow a little worry off on each other.”

Apart from his brother for a few minutes, it didn’t take long for the guilt to slink in. He hadn’t meant to blow up at Dean. His brother was honestly just trying to help. The funniest part was that he was _supporting_ Sam. He wasn’t telling Sam to drink demon blood or even lock him away in a safe room. Dean was trying to be there for Sam, to tell him, _I’m here for you. You’re not evil or wrong. You can do this._

“Seriously, Samshine,” Gabriel said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You don’t need the guilt trip. You’ve got ample reason to be freaked out and not trust Dean.”

“It’s not that,” Sam said. “I do trust him.”

“No, you don’t.” He put his hands up when Sam began to argue. “No, hear me out. You trust him with your life, to have your back. But trusting him with something where he’s already burned you? That’s harder. He’s proven that he’ll protect you, keep you safe. He’s damn good at that. But you don’t really have proof of Dean backing you on this. He’s always told you that he won’t let you turn evil, that your powers won’t control you, blah blah blah. Then Heaven came around with its shiny self-righteousness and told Dean exactly what you both really thought: that your powers are dangerous and Hell-bound.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Which is crap, but you both bought into it. Now he’s singing a different tune, and the only thing you can think of are the last things you did with said powers.”

“How can I not?” Sam suddenly exploded. He began to pace, hands tangling in his hair. “I, I swore that I’d do everything right, that I would never use my powers for evil or wrong, and I did. I tried so hard and all my good intentions just paved the road to Hell.” And there was nothing preventing him from getting lost again. Who he’d been had given into evil, too. He had an ample history of caving into evil.

Gabriel’s gaze softened. “Oh kiddo,” he said quietly. “You never gave in. There’s a difference between giving in and being overtaken.”

The anger gave way in an instant to despair that threatened to drown him. “I don’t think I can do it,” Sam confessed. His fingers wound tight through his strands, but the pain helped him focus for a minute. “And I can’t let him down again. I just…can’t.”

Greater than his fear of any Horsemen, greater than his fear of Heaven and Hell, even greater than his fear of the Cage, was seeing that look on Dean’s face again when he’d found out Sam was drinking demon blood. Or the shattered, teary look he’d gotten in the hotel room before they’d fought. He’d done that. And he couldn’t live with seeing it again.

It was safer this way. If he didn’t have powers, he couldn’t hurt anyone. He just…needed Dean to understand that.

Gabriel sighed, and Sam realized he had a whole new brother to disappoint. Before he could say anything, however, Gabriel started shaking his head and waving his hands in a cease-and-desist motion. “Uh-uh, nope, don’t go there. I’m not disappointed or heartbroken or anything. So back that up right now and get it outta here. Got it?”

Somehow, his candor was enough to settle Sam, at least on that front. “Yeah. Thank you, Gabe.”

“Want me to bring them back?”

After a moment, he shook his head. “Let Dean go blow off steam however he wants. They have keys and he can come back whenever.”

“Suit yourself. I’m going to hit up the bar downstairs.”

In an instant he was gone. Sam stared at the room that had been bursting with good humor and teasing not that long ago. Now everyone was gone, and though he knew they’d be back, the heavy, sick feeling in his gut made him remember the last words he’d spoken to Dean, his anger fueled by fear.

He turned back to his laptop and the books. If they weren’t going to use his powers, then they needed to have a different plan to tackle Famine. At least this he couldn’t screw up.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big chapter for everyone. I've sort of had a really horrible day with a lot going on that doesn't look like it's going to end anytime soon, so I figured what better way to make me feel better than to share more fic with y'all? Hope you enjoy.

Cold. Pain. Band around his chest, tight and tighter and tightest until nothing let him move. Something dragged behind him, ice against his back, heavy and pushing him into the ground.

Darkness surrounded him. Sank into his skin, tiny needles digging their way into his very being. His breath came out and didn’t go back in.

Panic pulled at him as he tried to breathe. The weight on his back kept him trapped against the ground, wrong, he needed to get up, it was wrong wrong wrong.

He just wanted to die. Please just let him die, let him escape that way. This weight on his back, the ice in his veins, the breath stolen from him, the darkness swallowing him whole, he’d endured days, weeks, months, years of it and he couldn’t do it anymore.

It kept going. Tears rolled down his face as he lay helpless, mouth gaping open and begging for air to sob. Someone let him die. Someone save him. Anything, something, let him go, please, please let him out. He couldn’t do it for another moment, yet it continued. It always continued.

_Please, someone, anyone, brother, brother please_

A light flared in the darkness. Air flooded around him and he gasped in a breath, just enough, and he let out an agonized scream. “Please,” he sobbed, “please, help me, I’m sorry, please-“

A voice he knew surrounded him, words he didn’t understand. _It’s okay_ and _right here_ and _Sammy_ and they didn’t make sense, why didn’t they make sense?

“Please,” he rasped. “ _Please_.”

He was being lifted, away from the ice that bound him to the ground. Something pulled at him until his head hit a firm surface. Light-headed and dizzy, he went without a fight. The scent of gun oil, aftershave, and sunshine hit him, a scent that had always belonged to only one person.

His brother. Michael. _Dean._

Callouses brushed against the back of his neck, and he knew every one of them. Gun handles, knife handles, leather steering wheel. His forehead brushed against the amulet that still hung around his brother’s neck, a symbol of _them_ that hadn’t been lost.

Dean’s head dipped low, voice pitched for only him. “Breathe slow, little brother,” he murmured, and he understood these words. “Take it easy.”

He realized that his breaths were indeed short and fast, and he forced his lungs to expel all of his air at once. He fought the urge to breathe for a few seconds, then slowly drew in a ragged breath. The light-headed feeling began to dissipate.

It was minutes later (maybe minutes, maybe hours, time didn’t seem to work for him at the moment) that Sam felt real awareness sink in. Hotel room, not the Cage. Almost stiflingly warm, not ice cold. No wings behind him, and he almost whimpered at the loss. Dean’s response was to hold him tighter.

Something shuffled beside them, making him aware that they had an audience, and Sam finally opened his eyes. Dean’s shirt felt damp against his face, and he was mortified to discover it was because of him. He swallowed and forced himself to push back.

Gabriel and Castiel stood off to one side of the bed, and both of them were pale in the light of the single lamp. Bobby was off closer to the door, no, the thermostat, and one of his hands rested on top of it. He looked ready and able to push the temperature higher if needed. And in front of Sam, kneeling alongside him on the bed, was Dean.

His brother had dark circles under his eyes that were beginning to grow dark circles of their own. His brow was furrowed and his lips were pursed in obvious worry. If he’d thought the angels were pale, it was nothing compared to Dean’s own complexion, making his freckles that much more obvious. He could’ve rivaled any spirit for lack of color.

Dean looked like shit. Sam told him as much.

Dean stared at him for a long moment in shock, then barked out a laugh that bordered on hysterical. “Pot, kettle,” he finally said. “I’d show you a mirror but I don’t need you to pass out on me.”

Sam closed his eyes for a minute. “You need sleep, kiddo,” Gabriel said quietly. “Let me put you out.”

“You need that Grace to deal with Famine tomorrow,” Sam said, shaking his head. “Don’t waste it on me.”

The room trembled, startling Sam into raising his head. Gabriel’s eyes were golden and glowing. “It is not a _waste_ ,” Gabriel growled. “I dare you to say that again.”

“Settle down,” Bobby ordered. He pointed to the lamp which had nearly vibrated off the nightstand. “Pretty sure you’re doin’ that to all the rooms in the hotel. If you can do it without burnin’ up the Grace we’ll need to deal with Famine, then do it. Otherwise, and I hate to say this, Sam’s tactically on the right track. I’d rather Sam be exhausted than you on this one.” He looked sour just saying it.

Dean’s lips got tighter, but he didn’t disagree, which Sam appreciated. “Trust me, I’d rather sleep too,” Sam said with a weak grin. “But you have to be in top shape, Gabe.”

Castiel cleared his throat. “I think I may actually have the capacity to do it myself.”

“I have the juice,” Gabriel began, eyes still glowing.

“You do, and no one’s saying you can’t perform,” Dean told him. “But you’ve already had to knock Sam out numerous times this week. And each time, you look winded.”

Sam whipped his gaze back to Gabriel, his stomach churning. “You didn’t tell me that,” he said. Gabriel glared at Dean but said nothing. “Gabe, you shouldn’t have-“

“What? Protected you the only way I knew how? Screw that. It’s worth it. It will _always_ be worth it. And I’d rather it be me than completely burning Cassie out. I’ll recharge. I can’t guarantee he will.”

The whole thing was screwed up. Sam pulled his knees in and buried his face against them. Why couldn’t he just _sleep_?

“Sammy,” Dean murmured, and that familiar hand rested on the back of his neck again.

Silence fell, broken only by murmurs so faint he couldn’t make them out, then shuffling feet. The door to the bedroom clicked quietly shut. Dean didn’t move away. Sam reached out and caught a hold of Dean’s t-shirt.

When Dean spoke next, it was tentative and soft. “Listen. I didn’t mean to get so pissed earlier before Gabe tossed us out. I didn’t exactly storm out, but I was heading there pretty fast.“ A pause. “I just, I just want you to know that I don’t care about the powers or think they’re evil-“

“I can’t,” Sam whispered. He swallowed hard around the sudden lump in his throat. “I just _can’t_.”

More silence. Sam forced himself to keep breathing deep breaths. In, out. In, out.

Dean’s hand let him go, but only to shift him close enough to put his forehead against Sam’s. “You listen to me,” he said quietly. “I’m here to keep you safe, that’s my purpose, Sammy. And if I thought that the powers were something I needed to protect you from, I would. But…but I don’t think they are. The demon blood, yeah, that was bad news, but you don’t need it. And I know you can do this. I believe in you. And I always have,” he added. “So trust me, all right?”

_“I don’t know whether I can do this, Michael.”_

_“I believe in you, little brother.”_

The memory came swiftly, a snippet of time that had existed long ago. The words themselves drew on a more recent memory, of Dean standing in front of him, asking him to believe in his big brother, to accept the forgiveness that was being offered.

“It’s your choice,” Dean said. “But…at least just stop beating on my little brother, would you? Because it’s starting to piss me off and I don’t tolerate anyone doing it, and that includes you.”

“I’m not trying to,” Sam admitted. “I just…I can’t just go from, ‘You’ve got demon blood in you and you’re evil,’ to, ‘You can use your powers for good, just go for it.’ I can’t undo or unhear any of that. And…and these flashbacks to the Cage, they’re not helping.” He shivered at the memory of cold and darkness.

Instantly Dean reached over and grabbed one of the blankets from the nearby sofa. Despite the raised temperature of the room, Sam let him wrap it around his shoulders and generally fuss like the mother hen he was. “Better?”

It always was with Dean. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Dean started to say something, then sort of deflated and stopped. Sam figured it was probably a repetition of the same words he’d been saying for a while. Leave my brother alone. Trust me. Let it go. Believe me.

If only Sam’s traitorous brain could give him that. Why couldn’t he just accept it?

He already knew the answer. Because accepting Dean’s forgiveness would mean having to forgive himself. And that was something Sam had never been good about. Assigning blame and guilt to himself, he was a pro. But forgiving himself…

For Dean. He had to, for Dean if for no one else. Enough was enough.

He took a deep breath. “We didn’t exactly convene last night after…everything. But I’ve got a decent plan that I’m thinking of. A way to take on Famine and deal with a host of demons all at the same time.”

When he glanced up at Dean, his brother was smiling. A tired smile, but a genuine one. “Well, we’re all awake, and I’m not going back to sleep anytime soon. I doubt you are, either. Let’s see if we can’t put your plan to some sort of action.”

_I believe in you, little brother._

Something inside of Sam stirred. Something that felt completely different than he did, yet still so much the same. _Even at my worst, you always believed in me, big brother._ It felt warm and powerful. Somewhere, there was a hint of air rushing past him.

If he really did want that second chance, he had to let Dean give it to him. And he had to give Dean a chance, too.

“Yeah,” Sam said. “Why not. At the very least, Gabriel can whip us up all some popcorn.”

“Popcorn? No, beer, beer is definitely needed right now.”

By the time the plan was laid out, it was mid-morning. Dean shoved Sam at the sofa, where his brother all but collapsed.

Gabriel conjured up breakfast. “The less we wander into a city with a Horseman on the loose, the better,” he said as the biggest breakfast buffet ever appeared on the table. “Trust me.”

It was a nice excuse to allow Dean to stay in the room with an eye on Sam, who, for the moment at least, was fast asleep. Kid looked like a zombie, eyes sunk in and skin pale.

“You’re not winning any beauty contests either, Dean-o.”

Dean glanced over at Gabriel, who was eating what looked like a crepe. “Then again,” Gabriel added, mouth full, “I’m not sure you ever would.”

It was _lighten up_ and _he’ll be fine_ all rolled into one. “Pretty sure you wouldn’t either,” Dean retorted. “I mean, I’m sure there’s a height requirement, and all the heels in the world couldn’t get you there.”

Gabriel glared at him, but his eyes danced. “You got no idea how tall a heel I can wear, bucko. And I look damn good doin’ it, too.”

Dean snorted, a grin spilling out. Gabriel settled back with his crepe, clearly pleased with himself.

Bobby looked less than pleased, which honesty probably made Gabriel all the happier, knowing his brother. “And with _that_ unsightly image, let’s talk about somethin’ less gruesome, like facin’ certain death. Again.”

“You’re all work and no play, Singer,” Gabriel said. “That doesn’t do a body good.”

Castiel raised his eyebrow. “On the contrary: you’ve clearly played the most of all of us, yet I believe we’re all taller than you.”

Dean found his mouth dropping open, grin growing. There was no indication that Castiel was anything but his usually sincere self, yet his eyes gave him away. Gabriel looked like someone had decked him. A minute later, he choked out a surprised laugh. “Well played, Cassie,” he said. “Well played.”

“Idjits,” Bobby muttered. He took another swig of his coffee. “Look, Sam’s plan ain’t bad. Think it’s about the best we can do with the unknowns in front of us. Deal with the demons, three-pronged attack at the Horseman, and keep Gabriel as the ace up our sleeve until the last minute. It worked pretty well for War. We need a back-up plan?”

It wasn’t said with any sort of disparaging tone, or any sort of doubt towards Sam. Still, Dean couldn’t help but bristle a little at the insinuation that Sam hadn’t thought this over a million and one times. “If Sam had a back-up plan in his pocket, he’d have laid it out. We’ve got one shot at this. I don’t know what sort of back-up plan we could have if Famine gets away.”

“It won’t be Famine trying to get away,” Gabriel said. He set his plate aside and sighed. “Look, if we botch this, then we’ll be the ones running. Famine won’t need to take off. He’ll just extend his net until he’s too big for us to handle. Archangel or not, there’s only so much one of me can do.”

“I have more strength now-“

“Cassie, I’m keeping your Grace from slipping,” Gabriel said, cutting Castiel off. “I-“ He paused and didn’t look like he wanted to say anything. After a minute, he hung his head. “Aw, fuck. Someone upstairs is cutting your Grace off. I don’t know whether it’s because of how you came back which, honestly, I’m super curious about, not gonna lie, or if it’s because they’re physically cutting you off. All I’ve got is you not being able to keep as strong a charge as before. I mean, I have such a vast supply of Grace, I don’t even notice when I’m sharing some to keep you going. But you’re tapping into my line to Heaven, kiddo. If I’m diminished, I won’t be able to keep you going, and you’ll start tapering off again.”

Dean sat up straight at that. Stunned was about the only word he could think of for what Gabriel had just told them. “You _what_?”

Gabriel pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, Dean-“

“No, don’t you ‘Dean’ me. Why the hell didn’t you tell me this before?” If Castiel was cut off from Heaven, would he Fall without Gabe’s help? And how long before this tapped Gabriel out?

Even with all of that, he knew the answer before Gabriel even said anything. “Because Cassie isn’t the brother we need to worry about right now,” Gabriel said. As one they all turned to where Sam slept, features finally free of pain or worry. “At the rate he’s going, the Cage is going to start to seriously hurt him.”

“What if he had his Grace back?” Bobby asked.

A quick shake of the head. “It’d be worse, honestly. The Cage would feed off of the Grace.”

Dean frowned. “Okay, wait, hold up. You’re talking about the memories of the Cage, right? The flashbacks?”

“No. I think…” Gabriel hesitated. “I think that there’s a part of the Cage in there. This isn’t just a memory. A memory wouldn’t stop him from breathing or leave him so cold he’s icy to the touch. I think a part of the Cage went with him, when we pulled him out.”

Dean froze. A part of the Cage was in Sam, it had followed Luce, Sammy was _in the Cage_ -

“But I’ve got a plan,” Gabriel hurried to add. When Dean glanced at him, the archangel had a quick grin on his face. “I just need some help with it before I can put it in place. And no, not help from you. Someone owes me a favor and I’m collecting.”

It was all Dean could do to try and accept that. Bad enough that Castiel was losing his Grace, but to hear that maybe they hadn’t been able to pull Lucifer out safely, that there was a part of the Cage in him, had always been in him since the day Sam had been born? He curled his hands into helpless fists of frustration.

“Once the Cage remnant is removed, then you can rejoin them with their Graces?” Castiel asked, and damn if he didn’t sound hopeful.

His smile fell when Gabriel winced. “Uh. Not exactly. Then I can start dealing with the Mark. _Then_ I can rejoin their Graces. Probably. Provided we know what Heaven’s doing.”

It made Dean want to find a corner to sit in and listen to his tapes for a little peace and quiet. This wasn’t just the average hunt, this was insane, taking on Heaven, dealing with an ancient lock that would let out unspeakable amounts of evil, and then actually _being_ a reincarnated archangel. On top of worrying about his brothers more than he usually did.

Sam was right. He did miss the conversations that started with ‘this killer truck’.

One thing at a time. “Horseman first, while we still have the upper hand,” Dean said. “Then…everything else.”

“Think I should’ve stayed asleep.”

Dean glanced over to where Sam was groggily pushing himself up. No flailing, no gasping for air. Tension Dean didn’t even know he had flowed out of him. Not that Sam looked better for having slept, but hey, any sleep had to be better than none at this point.

“We ready to go?” Sam asked. He didn’t even wobble as he stood: more progress.

“Ready to eat, yes,” Castiel said. The angel glared as soon as Sam began to speak again. “Which you should do.”

Sam scowled. “Where the hell have you guys been my whole life?” Dean said. “This is so nice to have someone else poke at him about his lack of eating habits.”

“Hey!”

“Eat, Sammich. Then we’ll get going.”

Sam muttered something uncomplimentary under his breath but sat down. He started to say something, then changed his mind. Started, then stopped. Dean watched with a small amount of amusement. At some point, the kid wasn’t going to be able to help himself and he’d actually ask. “What?” Dean asked. Might as well nudge it along.

Surprisingly enough, Sam didn’t look at Dean: he turned to Gabriel. After a moment, Gabriel’s eyes widened slightly. “Right,” Gabriel said. “I could use your help with…something. In the other room.” He reached for Castiel and Bobby.

Bobby immediately stood, just outside of Gabriel’s reach. “I can walk, don’t do that angel flying crap on me,” he growled. “And I can take a hint.”

The three of them headed into the other set of rooms. Dean raised an eyebrow. Sam’s face was flushed at Gabriel’s lack of subtlety, but he kept his attention on the plate he’d accumulated. Fruit, hash browns, a little bit of scrambled eggs and even a sausage link. More than Dean had been hoping and, satisfied, he settled back to grab himself another apple pastry.

“So, uh. I wanted to talk to you. You, um. You said purpose.”

Dean paused, pastry nearly to his mouth. Guess Sam had decided to actually speak up. Then it dawned on him that Gabriel had either picked up on what Sam wanted to ask, or Sam had asked him to clear everyone out so he could talk to Dean alone. Both suggested that this was something of importance. “What?”

Sam hesitated, as if trying to gear himself up to speak. Dean settled his face into as patient a look as he could manage in the hopes of coaxing it out of him. The tried and true method to getting Sam to bare his feelings: either rile him up or wait him out. And this wasn’t the time for riling him up. He’d done that yesterday.

Sure enough, Sam searched his face for some hint of…something, maybe irritation or recrimination. He wasn’t going to find it. As soon as he realized that Dean really was just patiently waiting for him to continue, he did. “The other day. With Castiel. You told him it was your purpose to keep me safe. And then yesterday after I panicked. You usually say it’s your ‘job’. You’ve never used ‘purpose’ before.”

_“I’ll be all right, Michael. Stop worrying so much.”_

_“It’s my job to worry about you, Luce. My purpose is to keep you safe.”_

_“Your purpose is to listen and follow Father’s orders.”_

_“No, little brother. My purpose is to be your brother and protect you. That will always come first.”_

“Dean?”

Dean blinked. Sam was watching him with blatant concern. “You okay?” he asked. “I mean, it’s just me being curious, it’s-“

“Just a memory,” Dean said. One that didn’t particularly surprise him. “And I said purpose because it’s true. It’s not a job. I’m not doing it because I have to or because someone told me to, and I know you’ve thought that in the past.”

Sam’s face said more than any of his words could’ve. Words had never been Dean’s forte, and one word was usually as good as the next. To Sam, though, who wielded words like he wielded weapons, word choice mattered. And in this instance, he was right. Because ‘job’ had always been what Dean used, the best he could think of.

Michael had summed it up better, though. Watching out for his little brother wasn’t a job, it was more than that. It was a purpose. It was an honor.

Dean leaned in and set the pastry aside. “But I do it because I want to. Because keeping you safe is part of who I am. And I wouldn’t change that for anything.”

Sam went quiet for a long moment. _Please,_ Dean couldn’t help but wish, _please believe me._ There was a part of Dean that was seriously worried that Sam still heard that fake voicemail in his head, remembered the words he’d uttered in anger and despair from the floor of the opulent hotel room. He needed Sam to believe him, more than ever before.

“It’s part of me, too.”

Dean glanced up. Sam stood tall in his seat, taller than he had in a long time, and in his eyes was a steady calm the likes of which Dean hadn’t seen in ages. “I told you, when you made the deal, that there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you,” Sam said. “That hasn’t changed. My purpose is to keep you safe, too.”

Something warm flooded through him, and Dean was sort of afraid to give it a name because the term ‘fuzzy’ kept popping up in his mind. He was helpless to contain his grin, and Sam’s matching smile was so carefree that for a moment, Dean wasn’t there in their hotel room, but elsewhere, and there were vibrant wings twitching behind Sam’s back. Sam’s eyes glowed a warm red, like a sunset, and he was otherworldly yet so achingly familiar. _Little brother_.

Then he was back in their room, and it was just Sam, floppy hair a little sweaty from his nap and gaze still a little too heavy. But there was trust there, a belief in Dean that felt like they had finally, _finally_ , turned the corner. That maybe Sam had finally believed him when he’d offered forgiveness and this was Sam taking it. It was more than Dean could’ve hoped for.

“Okay?” Sam said, and it was weighted, simplicity and anticipation in one.

Dean smiled. “Okay.” And smiled even wider when Sam fucking _beamed_ at him and just accepted it.

It felt like they were out of the hole and making strides upward. And damn if it didn’t feel _good_.

“Woah,” was all Dean said. Bobby was hard pressed to argue with him on that one.

Hundreds of people milled about, all of them with a multitude of food in their hands or on their clothes. They looked hungry.

Wasn’t like there wasn’t plenty of food to feed them, either. Food stands were everywhere and every line was packed full of people waiting for their chance to pay and eat.

As much as Bobby liked a good plate of food, the greasier the better, even his stomach felt turned upside down.

“Okay, this is a little much, even for me,” Dean said. Sam looked ready to be sick. Poor kid never had been much for greasy foods. It made Bobby want to find him a salad.

Hell, _he_ wanted a salad at this point. The smell alone was enough to stall him in his tracks.

Not surprisingly, Dean took the chance to play big brother. “Hey Sammy, remember that time at the Virginia State Fair when you ate all those hot dogs and-“

“I hate you,” Sam moaned. “I hate you so much.”

“Good times,” Dean said cheerfully. Bobby resisted the urge to slap the back of his head. Funnily enough, Sam didn’t look greener. In fact, he was looking less green and more red, glaring at Dean.

Huh. It never ceased to amaze Bobby at how Dean knew his little brother inside and out, how he could manage any one of Sam’s moods. Then again, apparently he’d been doing it for far longer than Bobby had ever been in existence.

_How’d you like that one, John?_ he couldn’t help but wonder. _Your boys are two of the most important, powerful beings in all of creation._

At the moment, said two beings of might and power were bickering about whether a funnel cake counted as a fried pancake or not. Somehow, Bobby was pretty sure that Lucifer and Michael would’ve had the same argument.

“They did,” Gabriel said, popping up beside him. “Just as an FYI. All sorts of random arguments, you wouldn’t even believe.”

“Get outta my head,” Bobby growled, mostly show, but still. There wasn’t much that was private, and his mind was one of the last outposts of sanity he had.

“Sanity, really? With these two as your kids?”

Well. Feathers had a point.

“Besides,” Gabriel said, and he grinned around a lollipop he’d somehow found. Probably conjured it up. “You like me. You can’t help it.”

He wasn’t horrible. “I’ve met worse,” Bobby agreed.

“I make a great prank partner when Tweedles-Dee and Dum get to be too much.”

“You know we can hear you,” Dean tossed over his shoulder.

Gabriel just grinned, completely undeterred. God help him, he had another pain in the ass to watch out for now, and Bobby couldn’t find it in him too much to mind.

Out of the two newcomers, at least Castiel was a quiet sort. Too quiet sometimes, and it reminded him of Sam. Thoughtful was a good quiet, but too thoughtful was its own problem. Bobby couldn’t count the number of times he’d had Sam suddenly drop a bomb on him that he didn’t know how to answer. Anything from, “Why is the sky blue?” to “Do you think spirits want to be evil?” or worst of all, “Is Dad coming back?”

The thought that the same kid as an archangel had had to ask the same question made him hurt inside. His boys deserved a dad that wouldn’t desert them at least once. And, for the sake of the young angel carefully following behind his boys, Bobby hoped Castiel could find himself the same kind of peace, too. Standing by Sam and Dean through thick and thin, that mattered to Bobby, and Castiel had done it in droves. That made him part of the whole crew, far as he was concerned.

“Now what?” Dean asked. “Sam?”

It didn’t escape Bobby’s notice that Sam stood a little taller whenever Dean turned to him to lead. Might not have a dad, but Sam had never really needed one, anyway. He’d always had a big brother. It was damn good to have the two of them back together again, side by side.

“I don’t see any demons, and absolutely nothing stands out right now. Anyone else see anything demonic?”

“Nada,” Gabriel said. He didn’t look as happy as he had a moment ago. “But that doesn’t surprise me. He’d pick somewhere out of the way to hole up.”

An excited group of teens rushed past them, making them all tense. “But close enough to disturb things,” Sam guessed.

“Oh, just being here is close enough,” Gabriel said. “Believe me. You have no idea the range that a Horseman can have. He’d take the entire city in a heartbeat, but he’s starting slow.”

“There’s a cheery thought,” Bobby muttered.

“Somewhere like there?”

Bobby followed Castiel’s pointed finger. Down a few blocks away, off on the edge of the main drag, was an older looking restaurant. Despite its OPEN sign, the parking lot was empty, and the blinds appeared to be drawn shut.

“I can feel…something,” Castiel said. “It feels like War did. A thrum underneath your skin.” He looked ill at the thought.

Without even looking both Sam and Dean moved closer to him. Castiel’s shoulders dropped a little at the brush of contact. Bobby nearly shook his head. In tune to a frightening degree.

“We’ll draw him out,” Sam said. “Gabriel and Dean go in the back while Cas, Bobby and I meet him and his guards. Then, before he realizes he’s being distracted, Gabe and Dean split.”

“I act as bait, letting him sniff me and my not-so-secret attempt out,” Dean continued. “That lets Gabriel stay hidden and get in close before he realizes he’s been duped twice.”

Even though they’d gone over this at the hotel, it still filled Bobby with a little bit of dread. Still, as far as plans went, it wasn’t the most solid, but Bobby had gone forward on worse. “Who’s slicin’ and dicin’?” he asked.

“Whoever gets closer first,” Gabriel said. “And it better be me.”

Bobby wasn’t going to argue that point. Out of all of them, Gabriel had the most power to back him up in a fight with a literal Horseman of the Apocalypse.

He still remembered when a single demon used to make him tremble. If only his younger self had known just what the hell he’d be getting into a few years down the road.

They made their way through the crowds, staying as close together as they could. It was only when they got within a block of the restaurant that the hairs on the back of Bobby’s neck stood straight up. He paused and dared to glance back. A young man dressed in a leather jacket met his gaze without flinching.

Then his eyes rolled black.

“Shit,” he muttered.

Dean, Sam, and the angels all paused. “What’s wrong?” Dean asked.

Gabriel’s eyes went slightly wide as he took in the black-eyed man still coming towards them. “Well, there goes the element of surprise,” he said sourly.

“Maybe not,” Bobby said. He found the bottle of holy water in his coat and the gun at the small of his back. “I’ll deal with him. You go on and I’ll be there as soon as I take care of this.”

Sam began to open his mouth to argue, but Bobby pursed his lips. “Your best chance to get the drop on him is now,” he insisted. “Just _go_.” As much as he hated to split from the boys, he could keep them covered from the rear. One demon wasn’t an issue.

Dean tugged at Sam’s jacket and they finally took off towards the restaurant. Castiel paused and glanced at him. “What John and Father did was wrong,” he said. “But they do have a dad who hasn’t deserted them.” Then he turned and hurried after the others.

It was enough to make Bobby stop where he stood for a moment. Damn angels who could read minds and somehow know just what to say. Still…

Later. Right now, he needed to keep them safe.

Bobby ducked down a small service alley between two of the buildings. The smell of trash met his nose, and he grimaced.

But the demon had followed him, and that was all he cared about. He whirled around, hand on his holy water. “Got a problem?” he drawled.

The demon smiled. “Not for much longer,” it said. Suddenly three more people appeared behind it, and another four closed the gap between Bobby and the entry to the alley.

Eight versus one.

Bobby tightened his grip on the bottle, fingers already working the lid off. “Balls,” he muttered before the first two demons rushed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes it's meant to end here. Yes I'll have more soon. Yes I do enjoy writing cliffhangers why do you ask?


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The good news is that there are now chapters up through 13 written, with various bits of what I assume will be 14, 15, and probably 16 done too.
> 
> There really isn't any bad news, except that there's even more hurt/comfort to come, along with a new twist that even I didn't really see coming.

It took everything Dean had to not look behind them. Leaving Bobby behind went against everything inside of him, but the man had been adamant. Dean still didn’t like it.

“I’ve got him covered,” Gabriel promised. “Trust me. Any demon gives him issues, they’re going to find out that it’s a bad idea. Fast.”

“Don’t we need to divide to conquer?” Castiel asked as they hit the parking lot for the restaurant. “Isn’t this where we divide?”

“We’re splitting, yeah,” Sam said. “But it’s ‘divide _and_ conquer’. We divide them to conquer them.”

Castiel paused. “Then why are we dividing ourselves?”

“Okay, overthinker,” Dean said, shoving him towards Sam. “You guys take the front. Gabe and I’ll come up from behind. Make a racket.”

“Cassie, you up for this?” Gabriel asked.

Castiel’s eyes flashed bright with Grace. “Very much so. Believe me.”

No point questioning anyone about their abilities at the moment. Well. Except one. He caught a hold of Sam’s sleeve and tugged to catch his attention. “You do what you need to do,” he said.

Hazel eyes looked hesitant. “I mean it, Sammy,” Dean said firmly. “You’ve got this.”

He’d say it as many times as he had to. Until Sam stopped hearing the whispers of the past telling him that he was evil, that he was wrong, that he had demon blood in him and that it defined who he was. If Sam used his powers today, it was under his own strength.

Sam clenched his hands into fists. “It won’t be necessary,” he insisted. “But…thanks.”

At least he knew. “C’mon, let’s go,” Gabriel said. “One demon will mean way more.”

“Just…wait for us to get into position before you take the front. And be careful,” Dean couldn’t help but toss out. As much as he knew he still had Sam’s back, it was entirely different to let him face Famine on his own without Dean right beside him. Castiel was good, but he wasn’t Dean.

“You too,” Sam said. As if steeling himself, he resolutely grabbed Castiel by the arm and hurried to hide behind the sole vehicle in the parking lot.

That left the back for Dean and Gabriel. “We warded?” Dean asked quietly as Gabriel’s eyes glowed for a moment.

“As best as I can,” Gabriel said. “Better to move fast, though.”

They raced around the back of the restaurant, where the stench nearly knocked Dean off his feet. It smelled like fresh sewage mixed with dumpsters full of rotten food. His eyes watered and he raised an arm to cover his nose and mouth. It was everything he could do to not gag. “What the…?”

He nearly tripped over the arm. He glanced down and immediately took three steps backwards. Vacant eyes stared up at him, entire body bloated and distended. A two liter of half-empty soda was in the guy’s hand. “Yeah,” Gabriel said grimly. “That’s Famine all right.”

Behind one of the actual dumpsters, Dean could make out a foot that was in a puddle of…oh. Oh, no, nope. Not looking. His stomach turned and he fought to keep it down.

Miraculously, the stench disappeared. “That won’t hold forever,” Gabriel whispered. “But we’ve gotta make it inside. Tell me if it gets bad again.”

“I’ll deal,” Dean whispered back. The last thing they needed was an archangel sending up flares of Grace. He’d dealt with plenty of death and decay before. This was just…new levels that he never wanted to see again.

Suddenly he found himself tossed into the wall of the restaurant. There was a brief tussle, and then a huge flash of light that sent Dean’s hands flying to cover his eyes. When he dared to look again, there was a fresh dead body, and a guy in a server’s outfit stepping away from the side of the dumpster.

More alarming, there was one person missing.

Gabriel was gone.

Dean whipped his head back to the dumpster side near the server. A bloody sigil marked the side of the dumpster, and the server’s hand was bloody. Dean recognized it in an instant: the anti-angel sigil.

_Fuck._

Then the guy’s eyes flashed black.

Terror stole Dean’s breath for a moment, but it was terror for Gabriel, for his brother that was no longer there while a demon still took breath. In an instant the terror turned to rage, and Dean grabbed the guy by the throat and threw him at the wall. “Where is he?” he snarled.

The demon just laughed. Dean grabbed for the knife at the small of his back, but there was another set of hands trying to grab him, and he turned and swung blindly. He barely made a connection before his arms got wrenched behind his back. A fist shot out across his jaw, and stars filled his vision. Another two punches and the entire world looked a little wrong.

No. _No_. Gabe needed him, Cas needed him, god, Sammy needed him, _Lucifer_ needed him-

With a roar he shoved the one demon off and lunged at the second. The demon hit the ground hard, Dean on top of it, and he pulled the knife out to sink in.

There was a shimmer of…something in his vision, something that made him give himself a small shake. A giant wave of lethargy filled him from head to toe, and he blinked to focus. There was a man’s face staring back at him, eyes still black, but it was a man being worn by a demon. What part of that was okay, to kill the guy just to get to the demon? And he’d thought Sam’s powers made him a monster? What kind of man _was_ he?

He suddenly found himself pulled off of the demon, and in a matter of moments his arms were both grabbed and held fast. “Got someone for you to talk to,” the first demon said with a nasty grin. “He’s been waiting for you.”

A cuff to the back of the head brought the stars back, and his legs felt like noodles for a second. Enough to make the demons nearly have to carry him. Neither seemed to even notice his weight as they dragged him into the restaurant.

The kitchen had the same horrible stench, and Dean saw at least three more bodies in the back. One of them still had a crust of a baguette in her hand, belly large and unnaturally swollen. How much had she eaten? He hadn’t been able to save her. She didn’t look like she’d been dead long, and god, if he’d just gotten in there sooner instead of debating funnel cake with Sam like an idiot-

Then he was out in the main restaurant area, and his eyes went wide in horror as he took everything in.

More bodies lay limply across chairs and booths. In one of the booths was Castiel. He had a plate full of hamburgers in front of him, and even as Dean watched, he quickly reached for a burger. His face was slightly covered in traces of mustard and ketchup. Even as Dean watched in horror, he finished one with two big bites and grabbed for another.

Four more demons stood, forming a small square in the middle of the room. In the center of the square sat an old man in an electric wheelchair. His hair was pure white, what little of it there was, and it fell in long wiry strands around his head. His face was wizened, wrinkles everywhere, and his hands were bony and frail, with skin as translucent as tissue paper. He had a canula underneath his nose and wrapped around his ears, and it was being fed into him by an oxygen canister attached to the back of the chair. One stiff breeze would’ve been enough to take him out.

Yet the sheer level of power emanating from him made Dean want to turn and walk away. He was just so very _done_ with all of this. How the hell were they supposed to take on a Horseman of the Apocalypse?

In front of Famine stood Sam. His shoulders were rounded and his face was filled with despair. _Pull it together,_ Dean chided himself. _You can’t just bail like some deserter. Sam needs you here._

“A valiant effort, young vessel,” Famine said, and his voice was thin and reedy. “But just not good enough.”

He glanced behind him and met Dean’s eyes. Dean shuddered but refused to break contact. Famine chuckled. “Ah, yes. The other one skulking around. You could have just come in the front door like your brother. Where’s the other one?”

“Dealt with,” one of the demons at Dean’s side said. Dean glared at him, heart skipping a beat. _Gabe if you can hear me, please be okay._

“Good, good. Let him go, I have him.” Famine turned back to Sam as the demons moved away from Dean. He struggled to move after them and found himself pinned to the spot. Sonuva _bitch_. “Now I have two of your little friends. What say you now, Sam? You’re so hungry, and I have the perfect thing to feed you with.”

“You stay away from him,” Dean growled. Flashes of the bodies he’d passed came to mind, as did the bodies that were still here in the restaurant, and his eyes darted frantically to where Castiel was eating yet another burger. He already appeared exhausted, hands moving slower and head dipping down to another torturous bite.

Famine shook his head. “I believe you’re hungry too, Dean. But don’t be selfish: baby brother needs something first.” He nodded towards one of the demons, and the man stepped forward, offering his right arm forward. Even from his distance, Dean could see the glisten of red on the wrist.

“Sammy, no,” Dean couldn’t help but whisper. God no, not now, not after everything.

Sam stared in horror. “No,” he said. “No. I don’t, I don’t want it.”

“My child, it’s only right that you have some of that which you hunger for,” Famine insisted. “It’ll be our little secret. Go on, you must be so _hungry_.”

“No, I meant…I don’t want it,” Sam said, and Dean realized he didn’t seem as horrified now. In fact, he almost seemed…calm? “I really don’t,” he said, and he glanced at Dean, a small, relieved smile on his face. “I’m not even a little tempted.”

Dean blinked. At all? He wasn’t craving it, wasn’t even the tiniest bit interested?

One look at Sam’s face told him everything: Sam really wasn’t tempted. Somehow, Famine’s attempts weren’t working on him.

Famine sneered at him. “Turning down a sure meal,” the Horseman muttered. “I doubt the third member of your group will be able to say the same.” And he glanced back at Dean.

“No!” Sam shouted, but Famine suddenly shot out a hand and sent it flying back at Dean. Dean flinched, waiting for something, anything, but-

But nothing happened. Dean frowned and glanced at Famine. Famine looked very confused.

“Maybe you don’t have the mojo,” Dean said in the ensuing silence. “Heard it happens when you get older.”

Famine raised one eyebrow. “Oh, no,” he said. “No, that’s not what happened at all. My powers work just fine.”

“Yeah, well you just tried it on him and it didn’t work,” Dean snapped. “Out of juice, grandpa?”

Famine just gave a laugh and it sent chills down his spine. “On the contrary, there’s nothing for my ‘juice’ to work on,” Famine told him matter-of-factly. “It can only create a hunger from something that’s there. You have nothing but emptiness inside of you.”

It felt as if he’d been pushed into a freezer. Cold began to pervade his every limb. “There’s nothing but surface wants,” Famine spat. “Women, drink, food. There’s nothing else to you, Dean Winchester. You’re already carved empty, waiting for someone else to take you over, like a shell carved out for a bigger, stronger host.”

Women, drink, food. The sum of Dean Winchester in three short words. He felt hollow and numb to his very core. He’d tried so hard to be a good brother, a good son, but he’d amounted to nothing. No wonder Dad and Sam had left. No wonder Father had absconded elsewhere. Even as Michael, he’d been a disappointment. A mindless soldier.

“You are nothing,” Famine said. “If I could’ve given you a hunger, boy, I would’ve.”

“Don’t you _dare_.”

Dean blinked. Sam stood tall, eyes like fire. “Let him go, _now_ ,” Sam seethed.

“Let him go?” Famine asked, puzzled. “The little angel? A few burgers would do him some good. He’s _so_ hungry.”

“Castiel too, but Dean most of all,” Sam hissed.

Dean swallowed hard. God, the kid deserved so much better than him as a brother. He wanted to tell him, tell him that it wasn’t Famine, it was just him realizing at long last what everyone else had: that there was no point. What use was he as a brother, a man, a _being_? What point was there-

“I’ve done nothing to your brother,” Famine said with a snort. “There was nothing there to build on. He’s empty inside, nothing to feed a hunger with. What can I do with such a soul?”

“Empty?” Sam said. He gave a sharp laugh but his eyes were still hot with rage. “My brother is not _empty_. Empty doesn’t push me forward and fight me on forgiving myself. Empty doesn’t give up everything to save me from my worst nightmare. Empty doesn’t _love_ like he does. My brother isn’t empty. You did that to him.”

Something stirred inside of Dean. Something that felt a lot like anger. “I don’t empty people, I fill them with need and hunger,” Famine insisted. “I give them what they crave the most.”

Sam’s eyes went wide. “Peace and quiet,” he murmured. “You gave him peace and quiet. Except you don’t really know what that means, do you? You have no clue what real peace is. So you did the next best thing: you made him numb.”

Famine’s smile dropped. Dean froze. “So let him go,” Sam thundered. “ _Now_.”

“At least he’s normal,” Famine snapped. “You should have been the easiest of the three here. I gave you that which you desired the most and yet it means nothing to you. Nothing! You need the blood to build you up, make you stronger. You’ll never be able to save those you love without it.”

For the first time since he’d challenged Famine, Sam faltered. His glare faded, uncertainty clear. It wasn’t just doubt on his face, but self-hatred.

And _that_ left Dean filled with sudden, crystal clear _rage_.

“He doesn’t need the blood,” Dean said, voice low. Sam glanced at him with hesitation, as if shamed to meet his gaze, and it only made Dean’s blood boil all the more. “Not to kick your ass, you wrinkled, miserable _bitch_.”

Famine’s eyes flashed a putrid green. “But he does,” he hissed. “Let me prove it.”

In a flash, all the demons moved towards Dean. Dean tensed even while he felt the pull again, the despair and numbness that wanted to settle in his very being. He fought to hold onto the anger, fought to keep hold of the knife in his grasp, because Sam needed him, he _needed him_ -

But god, all he wanted to do was just close his eyes and not have to deal with this again. More demons, more fighting, he just wanted it to be _done._

Suddenly all of the demons flew against the side wall of the room. Dean jumped at Famine’s howl, and again as all of the demons began to writhe on the floor where they’d landed. Black smoke began to pour out of their mouths, though it was slow, as if they were being pulled.

But that meant-

He whipped his gaze towards Sam. Sam, who had his hand outstretched, fingers clenching around nothing. His arm shook and he panted for air.

Sam, who was using his powers.

More black smoke came forward. “No!” shouted Famine.

The numbness faded and left Dean able to breathe again. Sam shuddered and shut his eyes tight, face lined with taut pain. A trail of blood began to drip from his nostril.

Clearly not as easy as it had been on the demon blood. But he didn’t need it. He was doing it, all on his own.

The roar of the demon smoke began to fill the air as they were pushed out of their hosts. “Sammy,” Dean yelled over the din. Sam’s eyes flew open and met his gaze. Dean nodded firmly. “Keep going, you got this.”

Because he did. And this time, Dean was going to back him the fuck up.

Sam pursed his lips and straightened, his strength renewed. “No,” Famine said, and his eyes flashed again. “ _No_.”

Suddenly the demon smoke began to head towards Famine, who opened his mouth unnaturally wide to suck them in. Sam growled and pulled his hand back, and the smoke moved away from Famine. A moment later, they moved back towards Famine. Blood flowed heavily from both of Sam’s nostrils as he fought to keep the demon smoke from the Horseman.

Dean fought to move his feet. He was still stuck as firmly as before, and he pulled desperately at his legs. “C’mon, c’mon,” he muttered. He had the knife, he just had to get to Famine. This wouldn’t be happening if he was an angel with Grace-

Angel. Dean’s eyes flew to Castiel, who was curled up in one of the booths, the stack of hamburgers long gone. _Castiel,_ Dean prayed. Castiel’s eyes slowly fluttered open and glanced at him. _Cas, I need you, I need to get loose. Cas!_

Castiel shut his eyes. Before Dean could begin praying again, however, Castiel wrenched himself out of the booth and threw his hand out towards Dean. There was a disconcerting feeling of something shifting, and then Dean tumbled forward, out of Famine’s grasp at last. He found his feet on the third step and raced forward.

Famine jerked, as if Dean’s getting free had affected him. Sam pressed the advantage and yanked the demons fully out of their hosts. With a scream he shut his fist tight, and lightning flew through the smoke. It flashed again, once, twice, and then the smoke drifted to the floor, nothing but ashes. Sam collapsed to his knees, gasping for air.

He wasn’t the only one, except Famine was gasping in absolute fury. “Lucifer’s vessel or not, I will _end you_ -“ and he threw his hand out towards Sam.

Unfortunately for him, it was the hand that Dean needed. Dean grabbed hold of his fingers, pinched them tight, and swung the knife down. Three fingers fell off, including the one with the ring, and it hit the floor with a loud clang.

Famine choked and reached for his throat. “No,” he whispered. “No, you, you impudent, _no_ -“

He began to melt in his wheelchair, causing Dean to take a step backwards, snagging the ring on his way. The puddle grew, black with a moldy green fluid, until there was nothing left in the chair but the gooey remains. It made him fight back a gag.

Ragged breaths drew him from the gruesome sight. Sam was still on the floor on all fours, head hung low, trying to pull in air. His arms shook and he was clearly fighting to stay as upright as he was.

In a flash Dean was by his side and catching him under his arm. “Easy,” Dean said. “Easy, you’re okay.”

“Is he all right?” Castiel rasped.

“Will be,” Dean said. Sam’s shaking was concerning but there wasn’t much he could do about it at the moment. “What about you?”

Castiel huffed. “Will be,” he repeated wryly. He gave a belch and lost all the color in his face.

That meant he was on his own with Sam. The trembling in Sam’s arms increased, and suddenly Dean found himself with all of Sam’s weight. “Woah, woah-“

The doors burst open, and Bobby rushed in. An instant later and he was there, taking Sam’s other side, causing Sam to groan. “Got wrapped up in a mass exorcism,” Bobby said when Dean looked at him in bewilderment. “You don’t wanna know how many. What happened here?”

Dean pulled out the ring and waved it in the light. “Sam blew his wad taking out the demons.”

Sam moaned again, and Dean froze, worried that he’d jostled Sam too roughly. “Really?” Sam croaked. “That’s what you’re going with?”

Relief made his grin widen. “Hey, y’know, there was a lot of back and forth, you got sweaty, I don’t know, man.”

“That was nowhere near orgasmic,” Sam said dryly. “Trust me.”

“You do you, Sammy, I won’t judge.”

Sam choked out a laugh.

Castiel cleared his throat, taking Dean’s brief elation with it. “Can you please,” he said wearily, “ _please_ stop talking about fornication.”

“We just say sex, Cassie. Far less words. And you’re only grumpy because you got whammied, hard.”

This time, Dean let out his sigh of relief audibly. Gabriel stood in the middle of the room, his golden gaze sweeping over everything. His hair was ruffled, but otherwise, nothing seemed out of place. “You good?” Dean asked. “Gabe?”

“Bastard shot me off,” Gabriel growled. He headed for Castiel first, grumbling the whole way. “Fucker used that sigil. I _hate_ that sigil. Cassie must’ve been just outside its range.”

“What sigil?” Bobby asked. Sam had gone back to being silent and focused on just breathing, and Dean put a hand over his brother’s heart. Beating fast, but still beating.

“It’s a blood sigil,” Gabriel explained. He rested his hand on top of Castiel’s head. A moment later, color returned to Castiel’s face, and he let out a large sigh of relief. “That’s a lot of hamburgers, kid,” Gabriel said. He managed to sound both impressed and grossed out at the same time.

“I saw it on the dumpster,” Dean said. “Cas used it on Zachariah. It’s the the one that banishes angels, right?”

“That’d be the one. It’s got a range but will banish any and all angels it comes across. Including archangels. Cassie must’ve been just outside its range when I got blown away.”

Sam coughed weakly and Dean swore the heartbeat under his hand went faster. “Gabe,” he said, urgency obvious.

Gabriel hurried over and rested his hand on top of Sam’s head, but only for a second, and then he lifted his hand off. Sam groaned, but his heart didn’t slow down. “Gabriel,” Dean said more forcefully.

When Gabriel didn’t say anything, Dean glanced up. As okay as he’d looked before, it was clear that the archangel was wan. “Are you okay?” Dean asked, quieter now. His tone was enough to draw Sam’s attention, making him raise his head to take in Gabriel himself.

Gabriel sighed. “I’ve been better,” he finally admitted. “I can’t heal everything. I could undo anything that Famine did, but I don’t see any of that there. Guess my anti-demon-blood thingy held.” His smile was proud. “But it wouldn’t have worked so well if it hadn’t been for you. You did good, Samshine,” he said.

Sam managed a weak smile in return before shutting his eyes again. Gabriel’s smile disappeared. “The worst of it, sure, point me in the direction and I’ll do what I can. But even if I was full-powered, this was done with psychic power and that pulls from his spirit, not his body. I can heal it, but it’s going to take time. And I don’t think we really want to do this here.”

“His heart,” Dean said. “Figure out what’s related to that.”

“Usually the whole body,” Sam muttered. “Didn’t you take any biology?”

Still fighting, still there. Dean couldn’t help his grin. “Idjits,” Bobby said, sounding far too fond to be really exasperated.

Even Gabriel grinned. “Heart, I can do. Any personal requests?”

Sam swallowed hard. “Head’s killing me,” he said lowly. Which Dean had figured, but it still hurt to hear.

As Gabriel reached for Sam, Castiel caught his arm. “I can do that,” he said. “I can’t undo what Famine did to Dean.”

Gold eyes turned to him with a frown. “He did?”

Ice coated Dean’ stomach. Had Famine been right, that he was really so empty inside, that he had nothing but surface wants? Was there really nothing to him? His dad’s cassettes that he listened to, his brother that he followed. An empty vessel that did what others wanted, an empty mind that followed any orders without question-

“Oh yeah,” and Gabriel sounded _furious_. “That son of a _bitch_.” And he laid his hand on Dean’s head.

Something hot flashed through him, scouring the ice out and leaving him warm and able to take a breath, a real breath, for the first time in what felt like eons. He took another breath just because he could.

Gabriel’s hand moved down to rest on his shoulder. “Yeah, he put the whammy on you pretty hard. You should be okay now, though.” His grip was tight, almost painful, but Dean let him lean. The guy looked exhausted now, but his gaze was focused on Dean, making sure he was okay. It was a little humbling, honestly.

The tapping of shoes pulled Dean’s attention to Castiel and Sam. Castiel had his hand on Sam’s head and was frowning. The tension in Sam nearly disappeared. Dean shifted his hand over Sam’s heart again and found it slowing to a normal pace. “Thanks, Cas,” Sam whispered.

“It’s the best I can do, unfortunately,” Castiel said, clearly upset. “Rest will help with the other aches and pains. And Gabriel is right: we can do more once we have more time.”

“That means a safer place for everyone,” Bobby said. “Thinkin’ we all take the car back to the hotel. Let’s spare the wings.”

“Congratulations,” Gabriel said. “You’ve officially said something that I whole-heartedly agree with.”

Bobby snorted, carefully pulling Sam up with him as he stood. “Stick around, Featherbrain. I impart a lot of wisdom that idjits like you should be takin’ to heart.”

Three brothers in various stages of beaten to hell and back, one father-figure who Dean wanted to hear talk more about his ‘mass exorcism’. One Horseman, toast.

Dean had had worse days.

With energy he wasn’t sure he had Dean pushed himself to his feet, hauling Sam with him. “C’mon. I’ve got a bed waiting for you.”

“Y’know, think you’re a little too focused about my getting laid.”

He didn’t even feel bad when he smacked Sam upside his head as they all but carried him out.

By the time they made it back to their floor (and Dean had never been more grateful for Gabriel and his insistence of high-class digs), Sam had a little bit more of his feet under him. He still looked like shit and wasn’t quite walking straight, leaving Dean and Bobby to buffer him on either side. But his nose wasn’t bleeding anymore, and he wasn’t flinching as badly from the overhead lights. Cool, quiet room was what he needed.

One look at Sam’s eyes, both bloodshot to hell, made Dean wince. Make that a cool, quiet, _dark_ room.

Castiel looked better than he had in days, at least. It was Gabriel who looked like he also needed to curl up somewhere and rest. For some reason, Dean pictured him curling up on what looked like a cloud, wings tucked around him, toes curled. It made him grin.

“That was _one time_ ,” Gabriel told him. “Dad above, of all the things for you to remember…”

“Remember what?” Sam whispered. Guess his head was still aching. His entire body probably was, and he punctuated Dean’s thought by coughing.

Gabriel stood back and folded his arms across his chest. “No. Absolutely _not_. Don’t you dare. I will turn you and all you love pink.”

Dean chuckled and dug the room key out. “Tell you later,” he said, or tried to. Something felt stuck in his throat, and he coughed to clear it.

Even Bobby gave a cough, one that was followed by Sam coughing again. “Swear to god if you boys gave me somethin’,” he groused.

Dean stepped inside just as Gabriel suddenly dove forward, eyes going wide, and trying to grab him and Sam by the back of their jackets. “ _No_!” he shouted.

There was a flash of light, enough to blind Dean, and he instinctively raised his arm to shield himself and Sam. When he could see again, he saw a middle-aged man standing near the balcony doors, impeccably dressed, but still casual enough to be approachable. His white lab coat finished off the look of a friendly doctor.

Except for his hand, outstretched and bloody, on a sigil that Dean was all too familiar with. He whipped his head around behind him but he knew what he’d see as soon as he looked.

Gabriel and Castiel, both gone.

The door to the room swung shut, and Dean could’ve sworn he heard it lock.

“So nice to finally meet you,” the man said. “I’m Pestilence.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I heard from a lot of you about the last cliffhanger and how much you enjoyed it, so I thought I'd give you another one!
> 
> Oh, wait. Did I get that wrong? Oh well.


	11. Chapter 11

Pestilence. Pestilence was there and Gabriel and Castiel were both gone.

Oh _fuck_.

Sam coughed, coughed again, and then couldn’t seem to stop. When he did stop, it was to cough up a huge gob of blood.

Not that Dean was feeling any better. His entire body was covered in chills, and his head ached like he’d just been on a bender. There was something stuck in his throat, and he coughed to clear it, then coughed again. Bloody phlegm came out.

There was more coughing behind him from Bobby, and the faint sound of retching. Dean felt his own stomach churn, but his head just throbbed all the more.

“I apologize,” Pestilence said, almost kindly. “My very existence in this room is bound to be causing you some discomfort. I suggest just lying still and taking it.” His eyes flashed a pale, sickly yellow, but it was enough to make Dean freeze, his mind taking him back to another pair of yellow eyes.

Sam fell to his knees, coughing so hard he began to gag. “You are very weak already,” Pestilence noted, turning to him. “That’s not going to help you out at the moment, I’m afraid. You shouldn’t have used up all of your so-called ‘gift’ killing my brother.”

“Yeah, but he had it coming,” Dean managed.

Pestilence narrowed his gaze, and Dean suddenly felt something stabbing in his ears. “Double ear infection,” Pestilence snarled. “My favorite creation yet. Ear drums are such…tiny, _delicate_ things.”

Oh god it hurt, it _hurt_. And there were no angels anywhere near them to help. The demon knife felt so far away at the small of his back and there was nothing he could do except grab hold of his ears, searching for any sort of relief.

With a wheezed breath Sam collapsed to the ground. Blood dripped out of his mouth, and his skin had barely any color left in it. “Sam,” Dean rasped. “ _Sammy_.”

Nearly vacant eyes stared at him, bloodshot to the point where Dean was worried his eyeballs were bleeding, and then Sam’s eyelids fluttered shut.

“Tuberculosis is a terrible way to die,” Pestilence noted. “But I’ll hold off for now. Someone wanted to ask you two boys some questions.”

“Kinda hard…when I can’t _breathe_ ,” Dean choked out. He glanced at Bobby and found the man hunched over and swaying. Sam wasn’t moving. “Let ‘im go.”

“In a minute, Dean. You and I need to have a conversation first, buddy boy.”

Dean stiffened and glanced to the side. Next to Pestilence stood a too-familiar figure. “Zachariah,” Dean growled. Even through his panic and fear and, oh yeah, _pain_ , his buried anger at the angel came surging forward. Remembering Sam hunched in on himself at the chapel, then in Bobby’s kitchen, tears streaming down his face as he’d all but pleaded with Dean to not kill him, tensing at Dean’s every move because of that one stupid friggin’ _voicemail-_

“Got an angel blade with your name on it,” Dean coughed out, murder in his eyes.

Zachariah gave him a dismissive wave. “Meh, you’re all talk, no action. Besides, a flea like you up against someone like me? Please. Y’know, this really wasn’t the way it was supposed to be. You taking on the mantle of Michael, killing Lucifer, blah blah blah. Doesn’t that sound like a great and noble cause to you?”

“And wiping out the majority of Earth in the meanwhile?” Dean countered with what little air he had left. He coughed again and brought up more bloody phlegm.

Zachariah shrugged. “Gotta crack a few eggs to make an omelet. Or, in this case, a lotta eggs to make the Earth into one tasty ingredient. Combine with Heaven and boom! You’ve got something.”

“This isn’t…isn’t what God would want,” Dean managed. A wave of nausea and dizziness swept over him, and he fell helplessly to his knees. Beside him, Sam coughed weakly, and his next breath in didn’t sound like a real breath at all.  
“Yeah, well, since Dad’s not home, the next best stepped up in line. And he’s got this whole thing under control.”

Dean could barely open his eyes to see Zachariah. The angel looked smug, and he was clearly enjoying watching Dean and the others suffer. “Who’s got it under control? ‘Cause it can’t be you,” Dean whispered. “Actually, please let it be you because you’ll screw it over to hell and back.”

Zachariah’s easy smile faded into something far nastier. “Raphael’s doing a good enough job, thank you very much. And he’s trusted me with this part.” He reached over and nudged Sam with his shoe, and Sam rolled onto his side, looking every bit the part of a corpse. It made Dean want to gut Zachariah for coming near Sammy _again_ , trying to hurt him-

And then his words finally registered. Raphael? Sweet, easy to tease because he was so trusting, Raphael? Who would rather heal than pick up any sort of weapon, Raphael? Who only saw the worth in battle because he had the means to fix that which was broken, Raphael? “Thought Raphael was a healer,” Dean choked out. He coughed and spit up more blood. “Don’t think this qualifies.”

_Gabriel, Castiel, please,_ Dean begged. _Where are you? We need you. Sam needs you._

Because Sam was dying. He couldn’t be dead, Dean wouldn’t let him be dead. He tried to crawl over to him, but his muscles didn’t seem to work.

“Nah, this is me freestyling a bit,” Zachariah said. “I gave Pestilence here the anti-angel sigil and got rid of Castiel. Bonus was that your friend Loki took off too. Guess it’s true: pagan gods are fickle friends. Or something like that.”

Loki. Zachariah didn’t know. The throbbing in his head and ears only intensified, and Dean whimpered, collapsing under the weight of the illnesses ravaging his body. His knees gave out beneath him, enough to send him tumbling to his side. He glanced over at the others, unable to help himself.

Sam was gone, eyes shut, blood trailing from his slightly open mouth. There was little to no color in his face, and Dean couldn’t tell if he was breathing or not. Bobby, too, was collapsed on the ground. Yet Dean could see his finger moving slightly on the ground, hidden from Zachariah’s view. It took him a moment to figure out what he was seeing, brain moving through sludge, but he suddenly realized it was the anti-angel seal, dipped in the blood from Bobby’s mouth. And from the looks of it, he was almost done.

Zachariah began to move towards them, and Dean fought to get his brain to work, to distract him from Bobby. “So Raphael has no idea you’re doing this,” Dean said. Because that was the only thing that made sense. Raphael would never have said this was okay otherwise. This wasn’t Raphael.

“No idea?” Zachariah sputtered on a laugh. “Kiddo, he signed off on it. Don’t worry, we’ll bring you back for Michael’s sake. You’ll be all pretty and new for him. Then we’ll get Lucifer inside Sammy here and if Michael doesn’t kill him, well. Then we’ll just shove him back into his Cage and kick the whole thing adrift towards the Empty. Then he’ll never get out.”

Terror stole into Dean’s heart, making it trip. Or was that just his heart failing? Dean couldn’t help but cough again, spraying blood everywhere. Put Lucifer back in the Cage and cut him off forever? Towards the Empty? Where no angel could go until they died?

“No,” Dean whispered. “ _No_.”

Pestilence almost looked bored. “Are you nearly done?” he asked Zachariah. “Because I have other things to do.”

Bobby was almost done, from the looks of it. Focus: he had to keep Zachariah distracted. “Figured…figured Michael’d be down here himself,” Dean couldn’t help but ask. “You doin’ his work too?”

Zachariah sneered at him. “Oh please. Michael’s got other things to do than mess with any of this. No, he’s just waiting on my call, telling him you’ll say yes. Then he’ll come back from whatever he’s been doing to prepare himself and slip into you like a finely tailored suit.”

He had no idea about Gabriel, and no clue about Michael. “Or, y’know,” Zachariah continued, standing above Dean and smirking at him. “A condom. Fits perfect, one-use only, then tossed aside like the trash you are.”

Bobby drew the last symbol. “Anyone tell you you’re a douche?” Dean rasped. “And not a partic’ly smart one?”

Zachariah barely had time to frown before Bobby slammed his hand home. Dean shut his eyes tight and watched the light flash behind his eyelids. He opened his eyes, blinking the water away. Zachariah was gone.

Pestilence wasn’t. “Well done,” he commented. “Now, as a physician, I must say that you should get some rest. Some permanent rest would do you a world of good.”

Now or never, and Sam needed help _now_. Dean shoved himself to his feet with the last of his energy and dove for Pestilence, fingers sweaty around the knife.

In an instant Pestilence had him by the throat. He batted the knife away almost carelessly, but his eyes flared yellow. “You think you can take on _me_ as you did my brothers?” he hissed. His fingers dug into Dean’s throat, and Dean gurgled, trying to pry the fingers away so he could just breathe. “You are scum beneath my shoe. You and all this planet are _nothing_. I will bring this planet to its knees with my best work. My virus does bring out the _best_ in humanity. I put out a test dosage a few years ago. I believe you’re familiar with it? I think the name ‘Croatoan virus’ is so catchy.”

The Croatoan virus? That was his? “Far more effective in this next phase,” Pestilence said. “And far more wide-spread.”

“No,” Dean wheezed. The world was going black at the corners, and his lungs burned with the need for air. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes. Sam was probably dead, and he was trapped, dying.

“Yes,” Pestilence said. “And while I’d normally make you my test subject, I’m afraid Heaven has nastier plans for you. Consider this death a reprieve. Enjoy your respite.”

The balcony doors swung open at the same time as a shot rang out. Pestilence jerked, and his grip instantly went lax. Dean fell to the floor, coughing and choking. Once he’d managed to blink his eyes clear, he slowly raised his head.

Pestilence stood stock-still, then crumpled to the floor. A bullet hole went clean through the middle of his forehead, and small sparks ran throughout the hole. Then he began to melt into black and yellow goo that smelled like sick. Dean fought not to gag.

Footsteps sounded on the floor. A man in a dark suit appeared, the red tie standing out like a beacon against the rest of his clothes. His full beard was neatly trimmed, and despite his smaller stature, he carried power like some people carried their sunglasses. And in his hand…

Dean blinked a few more times to ensure he was actually seeing what he thought he was seeing. But there in the man’s hand was the missing Colt, barrel tip still slightly smoking.

Slowly Dean raised his eyes. The man met his gaze and let his lips slide into a smirk. “Pleasure to meet you,” he said in a deep British accent. Then his eyes flashed red. “Crowley, King of the Crossroads.”

Dean fought to get to his feet but couldn’t manage it. “Sam,” he gasped out. “ _Sammy_!”

“Out for the count,” Crowley said. “I hope you have someone coming to remedy that. There’s not much life left in him, and as much I would appreciate him being dead, that’s not the purpose of my visit today.”

Dean turned his head to try and see Sam, to see if his chest was still moving and rising, something, _anything_ , but all he could see was dark hair and a puddle of blood. Oh god, no, please, not his little brother, Sammy _breathe-_

The doors to the hotel room burst open, and Gabriel and Castiel raced inside. “Gabe,” Dean whispered miserably. “Gabe-“

“Hang on, hang on,” Gabriel said, panting for breath. “Cassie, get Dean, I’ll get Sam.” He hurried over and knelt beside Sam.

“Gabriel, I don’t know that I can undo-“

“Just _try_!”

Castiel hurried to Dean, but Dean shook his head and pointed at Crowley. “Demon-“

“I said _Crowley_ ,” Crowley reiterated, “which I far prefer to ‘demon’. You could also use my title. I worked very hard to get it.”

As soon as Castiel touched his head, Dean could breathe again. The taste of copper was gone, and his vision cleared. A gasp behind him made him turn to where Sam was raising his head off the floor. Still bloodshot, still exhausted, but _alive_. Dean let out a trembling sigh of relief and caught a hold of Castiel’s arm when the angel swayed dangerously. A little too much juice used but it was greatly appreciated.

“Gabriel,” Crowley said, and Dean froze. Oh god, he’d used Gabriel’s name when he’d come in. Shit, shit, _shit_ , he’d outed Gabriel-

Gabriel pulled Bobby and Sam to their feet and raised an eyebrow at Crowley. “Took you long enough,” Gabriel said flatly. “What, your hellhound coach doesn’t run so fast these days?”

“There were two Horsemen in the city,” Crowley countered. “Making my presence known wasn’t exactly the world’s smartest idea. Once one of them was gone, I could handle the other. Which, by the way, you’re welcome. Saved your little vessels, didn’t I?”

“You know him?” Sam asked. He coughed again and winced a little as he did so. He didn’t look steady on his feet, but the fact that he was _on_ his feet at all was almost too great a miracle for Dean to care about anything else.

“I believe the moose needs to sit down,” Crowley said casually. “He looks like he might topple over, and at that height, I don’t know…”

Dean glared at him but caught Sam’s one arm while Gabriel took the other. Together they managed to get him over to the sofa. “You okay?” Dean asked quietly. He couldn’t help but run his hands over Sam’s wrists, feeling the pulse beating steadily under his fingertips. Alive. Despite everything, Sam was _alive_.

Sam slowly nodded. “Tired,” he murmured. “Demon?”

“Dealing with it. Sit tight.”

“Cas?”

Dean stole a glance towards the angel. He looked pale but was resolutely standing at attention, glaring at Crowley. Refusing to show weakness when Sam and Dean were down. A surge of pride ran through him at the sight. “Got our backs,” Dean said. “Just rest a minute, we’ve got you.”

“I called him,” Gabriel said to the room at large. “I need a favor. And as much as I appreciate your keeping them alive, that wasn’t what I called you for.”

Crowley sighed. “Of course not. What, exactly, did you want?”

“Wait just a minute,” Bobby said. He shook himself, probably trying to do the ping-pong of, “I was dying, now I’m fine and trying to catch up,” that Dean was struggling with. “You trust a demon?”

“Bad idea,” Sam mumbled. “Shouldn’t do that.” There was remembered pain and self-recrimination audible even in his quiet tone.

Dean shut his eyes. One minute. All he wanted was just _one minute_.

Gabriel held his hands up. “Crowley owes me. Don’t you, Crowley?”

The demon actually scowled and crossed his arms. “I did come when called, did I not?” he said. “I know how to honor my debts. You called, I came. And again I ask, what exactly was it that you wanted? Because I owed you quite the favor.”

“You know he’s an archangel,” Dean said. It wasn’t a question.

Crowley snorted. “Of course I bloody know. It’s not exactly common knowledge, I grant you, but I met him as an angel first. Then as a demi-god. Angels make my skin crawl.”

“Good,” Castiel said with a narrowed gaze.

Crowley raised an eyebrow at him. “Look at the claws on this one. Aren’t you a feisty little kitten?”

“I need an audience,” Gabriel cut in before Castiel could respond. When Crowley only looked in askance, Gabriel continued. “With Death.”

Crowley raised both eyebrows at that. He wasn’t the only one shocked at the request. When Dean turned to look at the archangel, Gabriel stood tall, gaze solemn but sure.

“Death?” Sam whispered. He was clearly fighting to keep himself upright for as long as he could, but he couldn’t seem to keep his head up very well. Dean reached up and grabbed his shoulder. “Like the Horseman?”

“Just so,” Gabriel said. “I need to get in touch with him and you’re the demon to do it.”

Crowley’s gaze darkened. “I hope you understand that by doing this-“

“You owe me,” Gabriel said shortly. “You owe me big time.”

Dean found himself unable to breathe again. Three Horsemen down and Gabriel was already gunning for the fourth?

Crowley readjusted his cuffs and straightened his jacket. “I can’t guarantee it in the next five minutes, you understand,” he said at last. “I need time.”

“You have until Sunday,” Gabriel told him. “That’s two days. I know you know where he is. I just need you to tell him I’m looking for him and I want to meet with him. That’s all.”

Crowley gave a short, mocking bow. “I’ll get right on it,” he said dryly. “Winchester – well, the Winchester still standing – over here a moment, if you please.”

When Gabriel gave the nod, Dean slowly rose from his crouch and approached the demon. The lazy smirk he got made him want to punch him. “What?” Dean snapped. “If you’re looking for a thank you, you’re not going to find one.”

“Touchy,” Crowley drawled. “Nah, I’m not big on acts of gratitude, though if you feel like sending a fruit basket, I much prefer scotch. This is for you.”

He held the Colt out. Dean stared, stunned. “You’re just giving it to me,” he said incredulously. No way was it that easy.

“Well, on one condition,” Crowley said, and _that_ sounded more like it.

“Which is? That I not shoot you with it?”

Crowley’s eyes flashed red briefly, enough to make Dean clench his fists and ready himself for an attack. “You remember this,” the demon said. “When the hammer falls and everything goes down, you remember that I came to your aid and gave you back the weapon of your fondest desire.”

He then dropped the Colt into Dean’s hand. The metal felt cold, the weight as familiar as it had been when he’d last had it in his grasp.

When he looked up, Crowley was gone. Dean shouldn’t have been as startled as he was, but the last ten minutes had sent his head spinning. Zachariah helping Pestilence. Pestilence now dead and gooey on the floor. Gabriel and Castiel all right from all appearances. The King of the Crossroads helping them, _saving_ them, and giving them back the Colt. Sam still alive.

A pained groan cut through the silence. Dean turned around and watched as his brother finally succumbed to his exhaustion, tilting forward and off the sofa.

Gabriel caught him before Dean could take a single step. “Easy, bro,” Gabriel murmured. “You’re all right. In serious need of R&R but hey, aren’t we all?”

“You ‘kay?” Sam murmured. “Wha’ happened?”

Gabriel glanced at Dean, not even trying to hide his concern. “How hard did Pestilence hit you?” he demanded.

“How hard did Zachariah’s trick work?” Dean countered. “And where the hell did you two end up?”

“New Zealand. I think.” Gabriel froze, suddenly horrified. “Does Zachariah know-?”

It didn’t take much to guess what he was afraid of. “No, he thinks you’re Loki and that you took off like a coward,” Dean said. “Which isn’t great-“

“No, it’s way better. Trust me,” Gabriel said with clear relief. Better that Zachariah not know that he’d sent two angels flying. The longer Gabriel could stay hidden as an archangel, the better.

Sam mumbled something again, then whimpered. Dean hurried over and knelt down in front of him. The kid looked wrecked, eyes even more bloodshot than before. “Y’kay?” Sam whispered when he caught sight of him.

It made Dean’s eyes burn. This kid. This stupid, lovable kid. “Yeah,” he managed to get out through the lump in his throat. “Yeah, I’m okay, Sammy. We’re all okay. Let’s get you horizontal, all right?”

Gabriel went to snap his fingers, then stopped, and Dean had a chance to really look him over. He looked like hell, hair and clothes rumpled, and clearly fatigued. “You get one side, I’ll get the other,” Dean said, making the executive decision. Last thing Gabriel needed to do was tax his Grace. He’d been shot off _twice_ in the last few hours. Even for an archangel, that had to be crap.

Together they managed to get Sam carried off to the bedroom. Bobby followed behind with a bottle of pain pills and a cup of water. Dean measured out the dose and essentially held Sam upright to help him take the meds.

As soon as Sam was down, Castiel appeared, a damp washcloth in his hands. “Bobby assured me this would be welcome,” he said. “I hope I did it right.”

“You did great,” Dean assured him. Cool, just damp enough to stay cold, and neatly folded into long thirds. He laid it gently over Sam’s eyes and watched as tension drained out of his brother.

The room was dark and quiet, despite everyone standing around. Dean rested a hand on Sam’s shoulder and felt as Sam slowly began to relax. Even though he’d gotten the ability to do so back earlier, Dean finally felt as if he could breathe.

“Well, that could’ve gone worse,” Gabriel finally said. Bobby snorted. “We’re here and alive, what more do you want?”

“A quiet room,” Sam said irritably. “Psychic wonder wants to sleep.”

Dean couldn’t help it: he burst out laughing, then immediately slapped a hand over his mouth. “Yeah, all right,” he said, relief making his grin almost manic. “Rest up. We’ll let you sleep.”

“Pray to me or Cassie if you need something,” Gabriel said. Sam made an affirmative noise, but he looked almost out. As a group they left the room and quietly closed the bedroom door behind them.

Dean took in the hotel room. The doors to the balcony were still wide open from Crowley’s arrival, as were the doors to the main hallway. Blood congealed on the floor and on the wall, and in the middle of the room was a large gooey pile of dead Horseman. Amongst the goo pile, something shiny stood out. The ring.

Gabriel slid down onto the sofa and groaned. “Gimme five minutes and I’ll deal with this,” he said through a muffled arm draped over his face.

“We’ll clean,” Bobby said. “Then you can talk about already lookin’ for Death.”

One eye peeked out under the arm. “That’s for a very specific reason,” Gabriel said. “We’re not looking to kill Death.”

“We’re not?” Castiel asked. “But-“

“No. He’s a gentleman, believe it or not. And I need his help with something else.”

Something in his tone made Dean straighten. There was only one thing that could make Gabriel sound that serious and earnest. “You think he could help with Sam,” he said.

Gabriel gave a short nod. “I’m hoping. Man am I hoping.”

“You’ve got a plan?”

The smile was tired but triumphant. “I do. Cleaning first.” He scrunched up his nose. “Being responsible _sucks.”_

“Then drinks,” Bobby said. “I could do with a drink.”

“No argument from me,” Dean agreed. A drink or five would be really welcome.

As far as a hunt went, though, Gabriel was right: it could’ve gone worse. It could’ve gone a hell of a lot worse. They were all in one piece, and Sammy was sleeping off the psychic energy drain.

He’d done it. He’d taken out six demons and held his own against a Horseman. He’d used his powers to save Dean and Castiel even when he’d been terrified to use them.

Dean didn’t think he’d ever felt prouder of the kid than in that moment.

First, clean-up. And this time, he was hoping that he wouldn’t have to be the one to handle a goopy Horseman.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm dedicating this chapter to the amazing Dani (umbralillium) for listening to me whinge about all manners of stress, and also to the incredible Angelica who bought me the most fantastic Supernatural mug that I am enjoying having my coffee out of every morning. You ladies are wonderful friends and I couldn't do this without you. This one's for you.
> 
> Here be angst. Because why not? Also, getting closer to a final chapter count. Soon...

Two days later, Gabriel’s phone rang. “I didn’t even know you had a phone,” Sam said.

“I don’t,” Gabriel said. “It’s a manifestation of my celestial wavelength that lets me know when I’ve been summoned.”

“What?” Dean asked.

Gabriel grinned. “It rings when someone calls me.”

Dean scowled, earning him a grin from Sam. With Gabriel and Castiel both working to get him rest, Sam seemed to be almost fully energized. He wasn’t holding his head like it hurt, and his eyes were clear. There were a few headaches in the days following the massive psychic build-up, but as far as physical repercussions went, Sam was okay.

Mentally, well, he was faking pretty well, but Dean knew him well enough to know that there was something beneath the surface.

Dean glanced at his brother as Gabriel pulled out a phone circa 1950’s from who knew where, complete with an ornate rotary dial and gold inlaid with pearl on the handle. It looked like something Cruella de Vil would use. Or the Queen of England. It was enough to steal his attention, just because it was ringing. “Seriously?” he asked.

Gabriel just winked and set it on the table. He pulled the receiver off with a flourish to answer it. “Hello, Gabriel speaking.”

Dean met Sam’s gaze. _What the hell?_ Sam mouthed, but his lips were turned up.

Dean shrugged. It was Gabe. No real other reason.

“We’ll be there. Consider your debt…mostly repaid.” The receiver settled back onto the phone and with a snap it was gone. “Crowley has Death set up for us this evening. Little restaurant in Cape Cod, but eat before you go: we’ll be after hours.”

“After hours?”

“Yeah. Safer for the community that way. Death…has that sort of effect on people.”

Oh. _Oh_. “Yeah, let’s do that without a lot of people around,” Dean said. For some reason, he supposed he’d thought that Death would need an event, like Famine, or would plan something, like Pestilence. Not just…kill people wherever he walked.

It spoke heavily to the power that Death carried. Suddenly Dean wasn’t as thrilled about this meeting as he had been before. Helping Sam or not, Death clearly wasn’t to be trifled with.

“I’m not so sure I’m excited about meeting Death now,” Sam said warily, clearly on Dean’s wavelength.

“That’s fine, because you’re not coming.”

Dean blinked. “Wait, what?” he asked at the same time Sam did.

“Look-“

“What do you mean I’m not coming?”

“He can handle this.”

“That’s not what I meant-“

“You want to go face off against _Death himself_ and only take half of us?”

“Would you just-“

“Is this because I used my powers?”

Both Gabriel and Dean stopped at that. Sam swallowed but kept his head high. “I mean, I get it,” he said. “I told you I wasn’t going to use them and then I did, so I’m…I’m unreliable, but I can do this, Gabe.”

“Samshine, I promise you, this has zip to do with your powers. Hell, I’m over the moon that you did pull that trigger. Otherwise, I’m not sure I would’ve had any brothers to come back to,” Gabriel assured him. Sam still looked uneasy. “It’s got nothing to do with that at all.”

Bobby cursed under his breath. “You want us all out of the blast zone.”

The look on Gabriel’s face told Dean that Bobby had fired true. “Then why take Dean?” Castiel asked.

This time, it was Sam who knew the answer. “Because you know we’re not going to let you go alone. And Dean’s not Lucifer, so that takes that dynamic out of play.”

“Damn straight you’re not going alone,” Dean said firmly. Sending Gabriel alone to face off against the most powerful of the Horseman? Not happening. Not on his watch.

Gabriel pursed his lips. “I really hate that you two can do that, you know that?” he muttered. “You’re not Luce or Mikey but you still play big brothers.”

“That’s because we are,” Dean said. “Deal with it.”

With a sigh Gabriel threw his hands in the air. “When _haven’t_ I dealt with it? Dad above you two are obnoxious. Go be obnoxious together. Elsewhere.”

Dean could take a hint. Even if it had been delivered with the force of a two-by-four. With rolled eyes Sam rose and headed out the door with him. The door shut on Bobby muttering, “Why do I get stuck with you two?”

The hallway was quiet, given that it only housed their suite. The elevator doors gleamed ahead, reflecting the two of them perfectly. There were no cameras, no other rooms, and only one doorway for the emergency stairwell. Just them and the hallway.

“It’s funny,” Sam said. When Dean looked at him in askance, Sam gave him a quick smile. “We’ve been together with everyone for so long that we haven’t had a lot of times where it’s just been…”

“Us,” Dean finished. “Yeah.”

“Not that I don’t like everyone,” Sam rushed to add. “Because I do. It’s nice to have younger brothers for a change.” He paused, then flinched a little. Dean could guess what he’d thought about: blonde hair, eyes like Dad’s, longer features like Sam’s, grin like Dean’s. Adam.

He would’ve liked to have known his other younger brother, but if he’d had to lose a brother that day, Dean was going to be absolutely selfish and say he was glad it hadn’t been Sam. Adam had been a tough pill to swallow. Losing Sam? Not something he could survive. Ever.

Dean cleared his throat. “It’s good to just be us again, though. Sam and Dean.” As much as he loved having Gabriel and Castiel there, well…

He’d missed riding down the road with Sam. Sitting in a crappy motel room, searching down clues to their latest hunt. Interviewing witnesses and bouncing ideas off of each other. Telling funny stories while they ate junk food.

“Yeah,” Sam said softly. He bit his lower lip. “Were Michael and Lucifer…were we ever like that?”

“All the time,” Dean replied without thinking. He’d shared every dream of memories he’d had with Sam, but they were usually dull snippets here and there. Random bits of memory that were coming through loud and clear. It was better than what Sam got with the Cage, and Sam ate them up, eager for something, anything that was good.

But the memories held day to day type things. Pranking Raphael. Helping Gabriel. Being together, flying or sparring or mentoring the fledglings or heralding Father’s calls. Telling funny stories and sharing laughs as their wings bumped against each other’s.

“What about Raphael?” Sam asked.

Dean had sort of anticipated this question, though he honestly still didn’t have a good answer. He didn’t have a lot of memories of Raphael yet, but what had come through was Raphael as a healer, someone soft-spoken and true, eyes deep and kind.

“What Zachariah said…well, what I _think_ he said since I was sort of, y’know, dying at the time-“

“Yeah, thanks for that reminder.”

“I’m just saying, that doesn’t mean I heard what I thought I heard.”

He held no real memories of Raphael, but still willing to defend him. “I think Zachariah’s full of it,” Dean said. “But…maybe calling Raphael for help might not be the world’s greatest idea. If Zach’s lying out of his ass, then we could put him in harm’s way.” Not that Raphael couldn’t hold his own, but the less trouble they put him in, the better.

Because Zachariah was wrong. This wasn’t Raphael’s doing.

Dean grabbed the Impala’s keys out of his pocket. “C’mon,” he said. “We’re gonna go find a greasy spoon and get food. Then we’ll hit up a dive bar somewhere and play some pool.” He let his lips turn up into a smirk. “Y’know, if you were gonna practice your psychic stuff, helping me win a few games would be a good place to start.”

Sam dipped his head but gave him a knowing look. Yeah, all right, he hadn’t exactly been subtle. But still. The point stood. _I don’t care, Sammy. And I’m gonna keep proving it to you._

“You don’t need me to help you for you to win,” Sam said. “But…I might be able to skew a few of their shots all the same.”

Dean grinned. “Then move it, bitch. There’s pie calling my name somewhere.” Somewhere outside of Cincinnati. He didn’t care where they wound up: Gabriel could always bring them back in time.

“There’s always pie calling your name, jerk.” But Sam beamed at him, _beamed_ , as they headed for the elevator.

They were six-hundred dollars and change up and heading for the car with matching grins when Gabriel showed up. With a snap of his fingers they found themselves-

Nowhere near Cincinnati. Dean frowned. “We’re at Bobby’s,” Sam said. “Why are we at Bobby’s?”

“Because I’m tired of lugging half of his library across the country when he needs a book,” Gabriel said. “And honestly, this is the safest place for you guys while we go talk to Death.”

“Buzzkill,” Dean muttered. In more ways than one: he was startlingly sober, his buzz completely gone. Sam looked similarly put out.

“Trust me, Dean-o. Last thing you need is to be anything except sober right now. I’ll buy you a drink later.”

“Is there any way you can phrase that where it doesn’t sound like you’re picking him up?” Sam asked, but the asshole was grinning.

“Only if you ask nice,” Gabriel shot back. Dean rolled his eyes. Assholes. The both of them.

Good thing that Dean actually liked them like that.

Bobby and Castiel were at the desk in the living room, already digging into a text. “More research?” Dean asked.

“Figured we’d get a head start on the Mark,” Bobby explained with a nod towards the sofa. “Could use your help, Sam. Some of it’s in Babylonian.”

Sam groaned but headed towards the sofa where a stack of books was indeed waiting for him. “I hate Babylonian,” he muttered.

Safe and sound: best place for Sam to be. He gave Bobby a grateful nod and got a quick wink in response. Yeah, they were both on the same page regarding Sam staying safe. It was nice to have additional eyes and ears on Sam.

Because above everything else, Sam was a trouble magnet. And apparently always had been.

“Pray if you need us,” Gabriel said. “Otherwise, we’ll be back as soon as we can.”

“Not praying unless it’s an emergency.” Sam stopped, then turned and pulled them both in a strong embrace. Dean shut his eyes tight and held on. Safe and sound and waiting for them.

“Be careful,” Sam whispered. “Both of you.”

“We will.” Dean glanced at Gabriel who honestly looked a little shell-shocked. He recovered quickly, Dean gave him that, and he even managed a quick head nod.

In the blink of an eye they were outside on a cold street. A cold breeze swept through, sending chills down Dean’s spine. Lights were out in every single building around them, leaving them facing a small restaurant built into a long, old building block. _Billy’s Eats_ read the sign that looked vintage without trying to be vintage, which meant it was probably the original from years gone by.

“Seriously, Sam reminds me so much of Luce it hurts,” Gabriel said, voice surprisingly soft and honest. “He even hugs like him.”

“Because he is him,” Dean pointed out. “And I’m Michael. We’re your brothers whether you like it or not. Which is why you’re not doing this by yourself.”

The wind went through again, and Dean shivered. “Isn’t it still summer here in Cape Cod?” he asked. “It’s freaking cold out here.”

“That’s not the wind,” Gabriel said quietly. He nodded towards the restaurant. “That would be Death.”

Dean froze. The building was silent as a tomb and held not a single light inside. But Gabriel was right: as soon as he focused, the wind that swept over him came from the building. The wind wasn’t just a breeze, either: it was a wave of power almost carelessly tossed out. As if it couldn’t help it.

Right. Time to face Death himself.

He started towards the door, but Gabriel caught him by the wrist, nearly making Dean trip. “Just…let me do the talking to start off, okay?” he said. “I know Death pretty well, but it’s been a while. And depending on his mood, he’ll either suffer fools or, y’know, not.”

“I assume I’m the fool in this scenario,” Dean said. Gabriel made finger guns and shot them off with a wink. “You sure you can actually talk without insulting him?”

“Probably not,” Gabriel admitted. “But I have the advantage of knowing him. You don’t. At least, not _this_ you. So let me handle it?”

With that, Gabriel carefully pushed the door open.

The room was empty, everything clearly closed up for the night. Only one table had its chairs down, and one of them was already occupied.

An old, slender man sat at the far side of the table. A black cane rested against his chair, but it was clear that it was for show and style. His black hair was slicked back from his sallow face, where his cheekbones were sunk in and his lips had nearly no color in them. He looked like a living skeleton.

Then he raised his gaze, and Dean nearly froze where he stood. His eyes were dark and fathomless, and it felt like staring into the deep hole with no bottom. It reminded Dean of all the times he’d been unconscious.

It reminded him even more of when he’d died.

“Death,” Gabriel greeted cordially. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with us.” He took a seat across from the man and slid out the seat beside him, with the clear intent for Dean to sit. He did so, though gingerly. He wished he’d brought a weapon with him. Not that it would’ve done a lick of good. It had been different, facing off against War, Famine, even Pestilence. They’d been tangible, they’d been touchable.

Dean could do whatever he wanted to this being and it wouldn’t do anything except possibly amuse him.

“Gabriel. It’s been far too long.” The dark eyes slid over to Dean. “Michael. It’s been even longer.”

“Not Michael,” Gabriel corrected. “This is Dean Winchester.”

“Ah, yes.” Death raised one eyebrow expertly. “His…vessel. Of course. Silly me.”

The dry tone would’ve been seen as sarcastic any other time, but something in it told Dean that wasn’t the case. Realization hit a moment later. “You know,” Dean said.

Death held his gaze, and Dean felt as if he were being indulged. Like an adult attempting to explain astrophysics to a child. “I feel every soul, every being, when they cease to exist. And that includes archangels.”

“Wait a minute.” Gabriel’s eyes went wide. “You mean-?”

“When they died? Yes. It was but for the briefest of moments, mind, but for that moment, they ceased to exist as archangels. Falling is a sort of death. The reincarnation was a spot of genius, Gabriel, I will give you that. You sullied a lot of plans, putting them in their own vessels.” Death’s lips turned up slightly at the edge, and it almost seemed as if his fathomless eyes danced in merriment. He was honestly amused.

Dean was so out of his depth. He wondered if he’d ever felt like this as Michael, facing off against Death.

“So. I will address you however you would prefer to be addressed, Michael or Dean, but kindly do not insult me by attempting to pull one on me. I am not my brothers. I assume you’re here because you want something, given how you’ve dispatched the other three.”

It dawned on Dean just how very out of his league he was, and even worse, how out of his league Gabriel was. They weren’t going to be able to get out of this alive. _Whose_ bright idea had this been again?

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Relax, Dean-o. You’ll make it back to the others in one piece.”

Death leaned back against his chair, and there was no source of amusement to be found anywhere in his face. “That depends entirely on the answer to the next question. Have you brought me a sacrifice worthy of capturing my attention?”

Sacrifice? “Sacrifice?” Dean choked out.

Gabriel nodded solemnly. “Of course. I’m part demi-god: rituals matter to me too.” He raised his hand and snapped his fingers.

A large container of buttery popcorn appeared in front of them on the table. Beside it stood a tall drink that looked like… “Is that a blue raspberry slushie?” Dean asked.

“His favorite,” Gabriel said. “Best popcorn I’ve ever found, too.”

“It’s the salt and butter combination,” Death agreed. “Whatever the ratio you use, I’m quite fond of it.” He reached out and pulled a few pieces of popcorn from the bucket, then popped them in his mouth. “Delicious.”

“Garlic salt. It makes all the difference.”

“I can’t believe I’m having this conversation,” Dean mumbled. This wasn’t what he’d expected when he’d been told he would be talking to the most powerful of the Horseman.

Sam would be having a fit.

Death continued eating a few more pieces of popcorn. After delicately wiping his mouth, he then turned and took a long sip of the slushie. He didn’t even look like it bothered him as far as brain freezes went. Guess there was a perk to being the most powerful Horseman of the Apocalypse.

Finally Death set his drink aside and turned his attention back to them. “I assume you’re here for this,” he said, and he held out his ring.

“Yeah. We’d like to borrow it, if that’s okay,” Gabriel said, almost hesitant in his request, like a child asking to play with something he really shouldn’t be touching.

Dean slowly raised his hand. Death regarded him with a cool gaze. “Yes?”

“Um. What exactly are the rings for? Because seats of power, that makes sense. And I understand why we got them from the others. But we’re just…borrowing yours?”

“It’s what they do together,” Gabriel said. He bit his lip and looked about as uncomfortable as Dean had ever seen him. “They open a door. Like, officially open a door in a way that I couldn’t before.”

Death set the ring down on the table between them and picked up another few pieces of popcorn. “It won’t do what you want it to do, little one,” he said, and he almost sounded sympathetic and kind, like a grandfather would. “It won’t work that way.”

Gabriel pursed his lips. “It’s worth a try-“

“I helped build that Cage, Gabriel. I understand it far better than you can hope to know.”

The Cage? “The rings open a door to the Cage?” Dean said. He felt slow, and honestly hadn’t felt this level of stupid since writing his tenth-grade paper on American history. Well. The tenth-grade paper that Sam had all but written for him.

“If I can get the door open-“

“You cannot put the part of the Cage that’s in Lucifer’s core being without taking the rest of Lucifer with it,” Death said. “You’ll try to reunite the Cage with itself, but ultimately, you’ll just take Lucifer back down into the Cage with it.”

Dean froze. Gabriel shook his head desperately. “No, no, I can get it out of him-“

“The only way to put that part of the Cage back into the Cage is to put a part of Lucifer in with it. The Cage was meant to hold Lucifer: it must be tied to both his Grace and his very being. It was one of the few times I’ve actually challenged your Father on something. I don’t typically get involved in his affairs, but even I thought there had to be a better solution.” Death settled back to take another sip of his slushie.

The silence that followed felt like it was physically taking the air out of the room. Dean wondered faintly if being this close to Death was seriously going to kill him. Because it might be easier than what Death was telling them.

“Then how do we get it out of him?” Gabriel asked, brow furrowed in righteous anger. “Because I can dropkick some other asshole into the Cage, someone that absolutely deserves it-“

“The Cage is tied to Lucifer and Lucifer alone. Dropping some other, erm, ‘asshole’ won’t work. It also wouldn’t solve the matter of the piece of the Cage still inside of Lucifer. Lucifer is the only one who could put it back into the Cage, and that would be by putting himself in it.”

“Which he’s not going to do,” Dean said. His own anger began to grow. “I’m not sending him down there-“

“I hate to inform you of this, but whether Lucifer makes the call to return to the Cage or not, it’s ultimately out of his hands.”

Something in his tone made Dean’s stomach turn. “What do you mean, out of his hands?” he asked.

Death steepled his fingers and rested them against his lips. “He’s having episodes of the Cage, I presume, which is why you’re coming to me, seeking answers. And they’re growing in magnitude, are they not?”

Gabriel sat, fists clenched so hard they were shaking beside him. Dean sat, frozen, fear and anger warring inside of him and churning his gut until he thought he’d be sick.

“The Cage is a powerful creation,” Death continued quietly. “Meant to hold one of the most powerful beings in all creation, so clearly it had to be strong itself. It was never meant to be divided. There are only two things that will happen. Either Lucifer will succumb to the part of the Cage inside of him, driving him mad and ultimately killing him if he’s still human, or the Cage will attempt to reunite with itself and drag Lucifer back down.”

His chest felt as if he’d taken a sledgehammer to it. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t _be_ happening. He couldn’t, he couldn’t _lose Sam_ -

Gabriel looked equally lost. “B-But there has to-“

“Unless you can find some part of Lucifer, some _other_ part of Lucifer, for the Cage to latch onto, then I’m afraid there is no other answer,” Death said. “There is one being left with the power to do what you want, and that is your Father. While I will one day reap even him, I have yet to do so. However, I don’t know where he is. I don’t make it a priority to keep track of him.”

Reap God. It was the one thing in the midst of the storm that Dean clung to, because the rest of it was more than his mind could grasp, was willing to grasp. “Then why give us the ring?” Dean whispered.

Death pursed his lips. “Just because it was intended for Lucifer doesn’t mean it won’t hold any other being you see fit to put down into it. And, in the end, it may be the more merciful of the options to put Lucifer back into the Cage.”

That was all Dean could take. “ _Merciful_?” he shouted. “How the fuck is that _merciful_? Do you even know what that Cage did to him? What it’s still doing to him?”

“Yes,” Death said. “So it is with complete knowledge that I tell you that the Cage, though vile, would still be kinder than allowing him to suffer and go mad here on Earth. Or, worse, die. Because while I would be honored to reap his soul, it is a human soul at the moment. Which means Sam Winchester will go to Heaven, and at the moment, I do not think certain of your brethren will take kindly to him being there. Hell might be…less torturous.”

The memory of Hell stole through Dean so swiftly that he couldn’t breathe, and the very thought of Sam being there made him shake. The thought that Heaven would be _worse_ was beyond his comprehension.

“No,” Dean said, trembling with anger. “ _No_. This isn’t happening. I’m not gonna let it.”

Death simply held out his ring once more. “There is nothing more I can help you with, Michael. I did tell you once, however, many millennia ago, that your love and devotion to your younger brother, while touching, could cause a great many problems. This would be a prime example.”

Slowly Gabriel reached out to take the ring. “Thank you for the popcorn and drink,” Death said. “As always, Gabriel, your company is appreciated, as are your gifts.”

And then he was gone, popcorn, drink and all. Dean stood and stared at the empty seat.

The thought of Sam, Lucifer, being back in the Cage, it was more than he could stand. The memory of Sam, frozen and terrified after another nightmare, filled his mind, and then it was Lucifer in the Cage, begging through the bars for release, for some way, any way, to get him out-

Gabriel said nothing, simply grabbed him by the shoulder and snapped his fingers. They landed back in Bobby’s living room as if they’d never left. Castiel still sat by the desk, thumbing through a book that he was sharing with Bobby. On the sofa, alive and healthy and even giving them a smile when he realized who it was, sat Sam. Sammy, a little grin on his face, eyes filled with life, safe and sound and not in the Cage-

Sam’s face fell when he took in their mood. “What happened?” he asked.

And Dean just couldn’t do it.

He stormed towards the door, kicking the trash bin next to it on his way out just to unleash his anger _somehow_. He barely even noticed when he yanked the door open and slammed it behind him.

The night outside held just the right amount of cold after a warm summer day, the kind of chill he usually really enjoyed. They reminded him of nights on the hood of the car with Sam, hanging out with a beer, watching the stars and talking about anything and everything, just being with his brother-

He headed deeper into the yard and wished Famine had been right, because he didn’t want to feel a single thing.

Sam stood and watched Dean go. “So…not good,” Bobby hazarded.

Gabriel didn’t say anything. Sam glanced at him and found him shaking, eyes glowing gold. “Gabe,” Sam called gently.

“Don’t ‘Gabe’ me,” Gabriel snapped. “We’re not, we’re not _brothers_. You don’t get to call me that, _Winchester_. You’re not him, and you’re not my brother.”

Sam blinked, startled into silence. “Gabriel,” Castiel said, clearly shocked.

In an instant he was gone. Even more stunned now, Sam fell back into the sofa, at a loss as to what the hell had just happened and what he could do. If anything.

“I will find him,” Castiel began, standing up, but Sam shook his head.

“No, don’t. Leave him be. He’s…he’s upset.” And about what, Sam didn’t have the first clue.

Well. That wasn’t completely true. He knew what they’d gone to talk to Death about, for the most part. Fixing him and the remnant of the Cage that remained inside of him.

Either Death had been unwilling, which Sam doubted, or there was just nothing to be done.

He stood and headed for the door. “Not sure he wants to be bothered either, Sam,” Bobby warned.

“Tough. I’ve already got one brother out, I’m not letting the other one go.” Not when he could try to do something about Dean.

Besides, it gave him something to think about other than him being potentially screwed. The thought of living with that nightmare for the rest of his life made him shudder.

The yard was quiet and cool when he stepped outside. There were only two places that Dean would go to seek some form of solitude and shelter, and Sam didn’t hesitate to head towards one of them. He hoped it would be the one he chose, at least. The first was the garage, where Dean could lock the doors and keep people out if he wanted. He’d done it a lot after Dad had died, and Sam looked at the garage now with the same sick feeling in his stomach as he felt when he thought about the panic room. Nothing good came out of either. Ironically enough, for the place that Sam called home and a haven, Bobby’s place also had the worst memories for him.

The second place was a small grove of sorts, with crags and rocks built into the rolling grasslands that surrounded the yard. There was one in particular that had a decent amount of rocks for throwing, and if you threw them at the right side of the crag, they made a satisfying ‘crack’ sound. It was great for working off stress.

Sam had gone out there when Dean had been in Hell and gotten wasted. He’d come to in the morning with bloody grooves in his hands from clenching rocks so hard.

But the best part about that area was that it couldn’t lock Sam out. Which meant if Dean was there, he wasn’t exactly disinclined to guests.

He was almost to the first hill when he heard the steady _crack, crack, thud_ , of rocks being thrown. Relief coursed through him that at least Dean was still here.

Fine, he’d admit it: Gabriel’s dismissal had _hurt_. It seemed silly, since he hadn’t considered Gabriel a brother for long. But Gabriel was family now, and to have him tell Sam flat-out that they weren’t brothers-

It made him flash to the voicemail that Dean hadn’t really left him, of the feeling that he wasn’t good enough, that he was wrong. That he didn’t deserve any of them.

And he still couldn’t shake that feeling completely as he came around the crag to where Dean was. Dean had tossed his jacket aside and was hurling rock after rock at the crag. Some of them were even splintering under the force of his throws. His face was red with exertion and his muscles were coiled with tension.

Sam quietly took a seat on one of the rocks where he’d thrown his jacket. Wait Dean out, or start the conversation? Neither seemed like good options, but it had to happen somehow. Maybe clear his throat, announce his intention, let Dean’s response guide him.

 _Coward_ , his mind shot at him. Where was his confidence in his big brother?

Gone, apparently. Along with Gabriel.

He glanced up as Dean hurled another rock into the crag before something caught his eye. Dean’s red face wasn’t from throwing stones: it matched the glistening in his eyes and the silent tracks running down his face. Sam found himself stunned into silence for the second time in ten minutes.

His own insecurities found themselves trounced in the wake of Dean’s obvious pain. He rose from his seat and stepped over to his brother. Dean threw one last rock then stood, silent, chest heaving for air.

Carefully Sam laid a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t know what happened,” he said quietly. “Something bad enough to make you and Gabe…make you and Gabriel both turn and run. But I’m here, for what it’s worth. And…and we’ll figure it out. We always do.”

Dean shuddered from head to toe, and then he turned and pulled Sam into his arms. Sam found himself half clutched, half leaned on as Dean buried his face in Sam’s neck. Sam immediately wrapped his arms around his big brother and held on.

It wasn’t often that Sam found himself the comforter like this, where he was basically holding Dean up. But Dean’s anger had seemingly disappeared, leaving devastation in its wake. Fingers wrapped tight into his jacket and refused to let go. And Sam could feel the wet slide of tears against his skin.

This was bad. And given what they’d gone to talk to Death about-

No. This wasn’t the time for him to freak out and break down. His own fear and despair would have to be shelved. For right now, he could be strong for Dean. His brother deserved that.

He hadn’t done this often with Michael, either. Michael had always been the strong one. Well. Always the strong one with everyone else. He’d been the only one Michael had come to when Michael couldn’t deal with it for a minute more.

“Death said there’s nothing we can do.”

Dean’s voice, rough and pained, broke the silence. “So he didn’t give you his ring,” Sam surmised.

“No,” Dean said, surprising Sam yet again. “We have it. All the rings combine to form a key to open…to open the Cage.”

The soft-spoken words made Sam freeze. He didn’t realize his fingers had tightened to the point of pain until Dean let out a small hiss. “Sorry,” he mumbled as he forced his grip to relax. “They open the Cage? But why-“

It didn’t feel so much like a sudden bolt of understanding as it did a slow dawning realization of something he’d sort of always known. That the Cage would always be waiting for him. That he had never really escaped, not really. He’d just gotten parole for a while.

Something in his stance must have reflected his thoughts, because suddenly it wasn’t him supporting Dean, but Dean holding tight to him, protecting him. “You listen to me, we’re not letting it happen,” Dean whispered harshly. “You hearing me? Gabe and I, we won’t let you go back.”

“Then what happens? I can’t live with these nightmares forever, Dean. I’ll, I’ll go mad,” and he choked on the last word. Dean flinched hard. “I can’t live like that. Can’t Gabriel just…cut out the bad part?”

“It’s not that simple.”

Of course it wasn’t. When was anything simple for them?

Dean pulled back and grabbed Sam firmly by the shoulders to look him square in the eye. “It’s not happening,” he said. “You’re not going back to the Cage. We’ll figure something out. Death doesn’t know everything. No one thought we could get you out of the Cage but we did. So we’re not giving up. _I’m_ not giving up.”

They should’ve sounded like empty promises, like meaningless drivel, but Sam knew his brother. If Dean said he wasn’t giving up, then he wasn’t giving up. That wasn’t how they worked. That wasn’t how family worked.

The cool of the night started to seep into his bones, and Sam couldn’t suppress a shiver. “Back inside, c’mon,” Dean said. He scrubbed his face roughly before grabbing his jacket. “Or we’ll both freeze our asses off out here and then Gabe’ll be pissed when he has to thaw us out.”

“A snap of his fingers and Gabe…well. It wouldn’t take Gabriel any effort.” Even if he knew the reason as to why Gabriel had taken off, it still stung.

Dean narrowed his gaze. “Where’s Gabe?” he asked, as if he knew the reason for Sam’s hesitation. He always did and, while usually annoying, it was almost a comfort to not have to talk about it now.

“Flew off. He was pretty upset.”

“There a reason you’re using his name in a formal sense? He say something to piss you off first?”

No, Gabriel hadn’t pissed him off. “Not at all,” Sam said honestly. Hurt, yes. Pissed off, no.

Dean watched him for a long moment, then nudged him back towards the yard and house. “We’ve got a few more irons in the fire. Let’s see what we can do with ‘em. We still need to deal with the Mark and figure out what the hell we can do about Zachariah.”

“You still don’t want to contact Raphael?”

Dean shook his head. “The less he’s involved, the better. Even if he’s not the one pulling the strings on this, we put a big target on his head the instant he gets involved. He never could keep a secret.”

“You know, I’m a little jealous,” Sam said before he thought about what he was saying. Dean stopped to stare at him incredulously.

“Jealous? Of what?”

Sam shrugged and stuck his hands in his pockets. “Sammy,” Dean warned.

“Just…you have all these memories,” Sam said. “Of Raph, of Gabriel. I don’t have anything except random moments and then the Cage. I wish I had more. I wish I had Gabriel and Raphael as, y’know. As brothers.”

“They _are_ your brothers,” Dean said. He gave Sam an odd look. “And the memories, they’ll come. Especially when we get back to our Graces. Which _will_ happen.”

“The Mark,” Sam reminded him.

Dean sighed. “Okay. Mark first, then Graces, then…tag-team on Zachariah?”

Sam smiled. The house was in sight, the lights on. On the porch stood a familiar silhouette, trench coat flapping in the slight breeze. He’d waited for them. Given them their space, but waited for them all the same. It warmed something in Sam to have Castiel there for them. “Yeah. I can deal with that.”

Castiel’s features were lined with concern, but it faded somewhat as they stepped onto the porch. “I didn’t want to disturb you,” Castiel said. “You both…needed time.”

“Gabriel come back yet?” Sam asked. Dean’s eyes felt like they were boring holes into the back of his skull, and Sam did his best to ignore him.

“No. I haven’t tried to look for him, either, per your request. We’ve been busy.”

“With what?” Dean asked.

If Castiel noticed the remnants of the tear tracks on Dean’s face, he didn’t say anything or even give particular notice to them. He simply held the door open. “Looking for a way to pin the Mark to Cain. And we may have found one.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't mean for this chapter to take this long to post - my apologies! It's been a crazy week.
> 
> I do want to send your attention to an amazing fic I read the other day: "Ramsey" by DragonflyonBreak is a beautiful look at Sam in season 12 with Lucifer doing his worst, and Dean doing his best. They're so perfectly in character and the h/c is so damn good. Give it a read and send on some love!
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/20052403
> 
> Now on to your regularly scheduled (okay, sucky scheduled this week, my bad) programming...

As soon as Sam headed into the house to find Bobby, Dean caught Castiel by the arm and pulled him aside. “What the hell happened-“

“Gabriel told Sam to not call him by his nickname because they weren’t brothers,” Castiel said, as if he’d been waiting for someone to ask him. He made a pained face. “I didn’t track Gabriel. Sam’s request. He told me to leave Gabriel alone.”

Dean flinched. No wonder Sam hadn’t approached him right away. Sling all his insecurities right back in his face, why don’t you Gabriel.

He’d still come after Dean, though. Maybe all their ground hadn’t been lost. “We could use some good news,” Dean said. “Death…didn’t go the way we wanted it to go.”

“I know,” Castiel said. When Dean looked at him questioningly, he gave a shrug. “Gabriel was…broadcasting rather loudly. Not across all of the angelic spectrum, but certainly here. I know what happened.”

Well, at least that made it easier to explain. “Since when did you learn to shrug?” Dean asked.

Castiel shrugged again. “I believe you and Gabriel are responsible for that. I can also ‘squint’, according to Gabriel, but he insists I learned how to do that myself. He did suggest something called ‘bifocals’ though.” He exhibited the perplexed squint then at the word.

Dean felt his lips turn up. “I think you’re good,” he told him. “Glasses wouldn’t exactly suit you.”

When they reached the kitchen, Sam was already seated, and Bobby was pouring generous fingers of alcohol. “Sam told me the gist,” Bobby said quietly. He handed a shot glass over to Dean who downed it and immediately handed it back for more. “So Death had a whole bunch of nothin’, it sounds like. Besides a ring to make a pretty door into the Cage. And nothin’ on the Mark?”

“Nothing on the Mark or the Cage,” Dean confirmed. He settled down into the seat next to Sam and took the next shot. It burned going down but it was better than the dark, raging storm that had settled into his chest and started swirling into a numb void. The thought of Sam going mad, of falling back into the Cage, of losing Lucifer to that cold and dark and _wrong-_

“We got an idea about the Mark, but what about the Cage?” Bobby asked. “I don’t have a ton of anythin’ on the Cage. I don’t think any book in the world can help us. And it’s not like we have experts to consult.”

“Death _was_ the expert,” Dean said. “He helped build the fucking thing.”

Sam blinked. “Oh,” was all he said. The storm grew just a little more.

“But you did get his ring?” Castiel asked.

“Yeah. Gabe has it.” The nickname made Dean glance at his brother, but Sam resolutely turned his gaze to his drink. _Gabriel, get your ass back here, now,_ Dean prayed as furiously as he could. _You owe him that much._

No flutter of wings. “Asshole,” Dean muttered. As much as he loved Gabriel, and he really did, that didn’t mean he couldn’t be a dick.

_He’s hurting_ , a part of him said. _Gabriel has never dealt well with losing family._ It helped, but only a little. The other part of him wanted Gabriel there for him to yell at. Yelling at anything would be welcome at the moment. Or things to throw, things to hit.

Something. Anything besides a future without his little brother. _Again_.

“Any chance we can kill two birds with one stone?” Sam asked, and the sound of hopefulness in Sam’s voice made a little part of Dean die.

Castiel hesitated but finally said, “No. As easy as it would be to throw Cain into the Cage, it would potentially take care of the Mark, but not the Cage remnant inside of you.”

“Peel it off of Cain?” Bobby said, but he didn’t sound like he had much faith in the idea.

Dean shook his head. “Lucifer and the Mark together are bad news. And Gabe’s already taken tearing the Cage part out of Sam off the table. Not happening.”

“Figures. Well, what about Crowley?” Bobby asked. “Any chance the King of the Crossroads can help?”

“No deals,” Sam said firmly. He glared at Dean. “We’re not doing it.”

“I’m not sure there’s anything a deal could do about this, anyway,” Castiel said. “If we’re going to try and fix this, Death told you both there’s only one thing that can stop it from happening. I need to find God.”

“Yeah, you go find him,” Dean snapped, and the storm inside raged even more. “You see what that useless sonuvabitch can do. Oh wait, he’s the fucker who did this in the first place.”

“Dean,” Sam said, but Dean was well past any sort of warnings to settle down at that point.

“No. He’s the one who dropped you in the first time, and even Death told him it was overkill. And now, what, you can’t escape it? It’ll drive you mad, or kill you? Or take you back?”

Sam shut his eyes tight but didn’t say anything. “And we’re expecting him to pull some deus ex machina and show up, wave his hand and fix everything? _Fuck_ Father,” Dean spat. “You won’t find him, Cas. He doesn’t want to be found. Because then he’d have to face up to the fact that he screwed the pooch and maybe damned the world in the process.”

He downed another shot and slammed the glass down onto the table. He headed for the living room as fast as his legs would carry him, then stopped in the hallway. He didn’t even have to look back to see the look on Sam’s face, the hurt, the worry, the fear birthed from insecurity. _Don’t go_ , he could all but hear.

Dean swallowed hard. “I’ll be downstairs,” he said, and turned and headed for the basement. At least there he could throw things to his heart’s content.

Actually, decimating the panic room a little would probably make him feel _way_ better. And maybe make him feel better about having left Sam in there alone.

He moved down the stairs with purpose and grabbed the first crowbar he could find.

“He’ll destroy your room,” was the first thing Sam said in the silence following Dean’s angry departure. He knew his brother well enough to know what Dean was in the mood for, and right now, it was destruction. At least he hadn’t left, though Sam had seen the desire inside of his brother to head outside again, and this time, it would’ve definitely been the garage this time.

“He can’t really hurt anything,” Bobby said. “And what he can destroy, let him. If it weren’t so damn useful, I’d tear the place apart myself.”

That brought Sam up short. “Why?”

Bobby met his eyes over the top of the bottle. “I had to put one of my boys in there and watch the other one spiral out in worry,” he said dryly. “Fun times.”

As much as the detoxing hadn’t been fun, it was still nice to hear that Sam hadn’t really been alone. “We should’ve been in there with you,” Bobby continued. His eyes cast down to the table, where he was playing with his empty shot glass. “Not sure I’ll ever really forgive myself for leavin’ you in there alone,” he said quietly. “I know Dean won’t.”

“Well, you should,” Sam said. “I do.”

The grateful smile he got in return made him flush. It was odd to be on the other side of that forgive and forget thing. “Still, wish I could do it differently,” Bobby told him. “I just want you to know that. Let him tear it all to hell and back. It’ll give him somethin’ to do.”

Castiel sat up straighter. “Tear it down,” he murmured.

Sam blinked. Castiel’s face no longer looked drawn and grieved but more like he’d awakened from a deep sleep, growing more animated with each second. “What?” Sam asked.

“What if…what if we could destroy the Cage?”

That took a minute to process. “Without the Cage in existence, the other part that remains with you may disappear as well,” Castiel said. “If it was created, it can be torn apart.”

“Maybe,” Sam said, but hope began to bloom in his chest all the same. “What type of firepower would you need to do that, though?”

“I’d reckon it would take an archangel or two,” Bobby said. “If Michael and Lucifer tussling would end the world, wouldn’t the two of you have the power to rip it apart?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” The last thing he wanted to do was pin his hopes on something again, but he hated to let the idea drop. It was the first good idea they’d had. “Good thinking,” he told Castiel. Castiel smiled, slow and bright.

It would take all the archangels, of that Sam was certain. Which meant they had to get Raphael on board. But if Raphael was the one leading the crusade against Earth and humanity, what was the likelihood he’d be on board to help them?

Maybe with Death’s help. He’d helped build it; he could help take it down.

Bobby cleared his throat, then stopped. He looked more hesitant than Sam had ever seen him in his life. “What?” Sam asked.

The older man heaved a sigh. “Aw, hell,” he muttered. He almost poured another shot, then just took a long swig straight from the bottle. “There might be another way to leave the Cage remnant in the Cage.”

Two ideas. Sam could work with that. “And what’s that?” Castiel asked.

Bobby pursed his lips. “Put Lucifer back in the Cage, then get him out the right way.”

Ice coated Sam’s stomach. “Doin’ it the right way might leave the Cage remnant behind where it belongs,” he continued. “It ain’t a pretty idea, but it could work. We got the rings now, and those open the door to the Cage, right?”

“That’s what Dean said,” Sam managed to get out. Well, at least they had two ideas.

Two ideas with neither one particularly likely to work. It was getting harder to hold onto that tiny flame of hope.

He had to. If he gave up now, it was game over. And Dean needed him. Gabriel did, too, as much as he probably didn’t want to admit it.

“So, what did you have about the Mark?” Sam asked. “Did the ritual I found pan out?”

“It might, but Castiel found one in Enochian that might be stronger in this case.”

“It’s meant to contain a demon to a host,” Castiel explained. “In this case, the Mark is sort of possessing Cain. With the Enochian behind it, it should work to bind it to Cain for good. Then when you get your Grace back, it won’t come back for you.”

“Why hasn’t it been done before?” Sam couldn’t help but ask. Why not just bind it to Cain forever?

“Yeah, we talked about that too,” Bobby said. “We figured it wasn’t always meant to be on Cain. They probably wanted it to boomerang back to Lucifer, givin’ Michael another reason to put his brother down.”

So much of this made Sam just hurt. And he didn’t understand why it even _had_ to happen. “And what happens if I have the Mark back but die? Doesn’t that go straight back to Cain anyway?”

“Maybe not. But I don’t know where it would go instead.”

If not to Cain, then the Mark would need a new host, one who would be bound to bear it forever, and the new bearer forever guarded, forever watched, forever on lock-down essentially. There was no other real human that could withstand it-

Which meant an angel. And probably not just any angel.

Sam’s eyes widened. “Michael,” he breathed. When Bobby and Castiel looked at him in confusion, Sam leaned forward on the table. “It was originally meant to go to Michael. It would be the perfect way to control Heaven’s Prince.”

“Son of a bitch,” Bobby muttered.

Castiel’s face said everything he was thinking. Whoever was pulling the strings up in Heaven clearly had it all thought out.

“That takes Michael out of the picture,” Sam said, and finally, _finally_ , there was something besides despair. Now there was anger of his own. “Not just out of the picture, practically collared. What does that mean for Heaven?”

“Nothin’ good, I’m sure,” Bobby said. “Especially with Daddy out on a sabbatical.”

“If God is gone, and Michael not able to lead, then Heaven was meant to be led by Lucifer,” Castiel said. “But if Lucifer is gone-“

“Wait, what?” Sam frowned. “I thought Raphael was the next oldest after Michael.”

“He is, but in terms of hierarchy, Lucifer followed after Michael. With both of them gone…” Castiel swallowed, and his next words were quiet and pained. “Raphael would be the next in line to govern Heaven and all its Host.”

Sam’s nausea only grew, and with it his helpless fury. All of the pieces were in place to let Raphael make his move. With Michael and Lucifer both gone, he’d been able to accelerate his plans until Dean and Sam had appeared on the horizon.

And then Gabriel had thrown a wrench in his plans.

It still didn’t make sense, though. Memories of teasing Raphael came to mind, and then he could see an indulgent smile, a deep voice that washed over him, gentleness and a firm, sure hand when tending to the wounded. _Please don’t keep getting hurt, Lucifer. You and Michael make my Grace ache whenever you come in like this. Is it too much to ask that you be a little more careful?_

It just…it just _couldn’t_ be Raphael. It couldn’t.

A loud clang came from below them, and Sam flinched. This time, he’d leave Dean be. The last thing he needed to hear was how Heaven was being controlled and what Raphael intended for them.

He turned to Castiel instead. “What do we need for that Mark ritual?” he asked.

_“I know you miss him.”_

_He turned to where Raphael was carefully knitting back together the Grace of one of their angels. The young soldier was detailed to Jerusalem, attempting to prevent high levels of death and agony as the humans fought with each other. The ‘Crusades’ or something was what Michael had heard from his reports. It was an absolute atrocity, and they were ascribing it all to Father. Death and bloodshed in his name._

_Father seemed to be less and less available for counsel these days. With humanity acting this way, it wasn’t truly a surprise, but it did leave Michael feeling a little lost. Especially with Lucifer still in the Cage._

_Heaven above, he should’ve been done with his punishment already. Why couldn’t Father just let him out?_

_“Michael?”_

_“I do,” Michael said. Raphael finished and sent the angel on his way. “I miss you too, by the way. You’re a hard one to pin down. Please tell me you don’t spend all your time healing angels wounded by war and toil.”_

_Raphael chuckled. “Contrary to popular belief, no, I actually do know how to take a break from my work. You should try it,” he said wryly. “I enjoy walking with Joshua in the Garden, examining herbs and flowers.”_

_“Work,” Michael summed up. “Raph, you need to steer clear of any healing for a time. Make some friends. Leave more of it to your apprentices. I believe you said some showed promise?”_

_“Naomi seems adept at it,” Raphael agreed. “And I do too have friends. I’ve been spending some time with Naomi and Zachariah.”_

_Not exactly the friendliest of angels by Michael’s standards: Naomi with her cold eyes and Zachariah who always seemed too eager to put his hands into everything. Still, if Raphael had found companionship, then Michael could not fault him for it. Especially since he himself had been spending more and more time with Lucifer at the Cage and calling it ‘Earth business’._

_He winced at the thought. “I’m so sorry I have not been here for you, Raphael.”_

_Raphael was already shaking his head. His smile was warm and sweet, and he rested a hand lightly on Michael’s wing. “You need not apologize to me, Michael. I only wish I could help with your pain. It is the one thing I cannot heal, any more than I could heal my own. With Gabriel…”_

_That one still hurt. “I still refuse to think he’s gone,” Michael said stubbornly. “I can still feel the edge of his Grace sometimes, when I am on Earth. He exists. I just need to find him.”_

_“And I hope, for all of our sakes, that you’re right. But Lucifer and Gabriel were my little brothers too, and I feel, in some ways, that I failed them. I could not heal Gabriel’s pain as everything fell apart. And…and I could not heal Lucifer after the Mark.”_

_Michael swallowed hard. “There is still hope. The Mark is no longer his. And Father will forgive him. Then we’ll find Gabriel and be united again. A real family.”_

_Raphael’s smile this time was pained. “I wish I had your optimism. I just have this ache inside of me that no herb, flower, or Grace will heal. I wish I could forget about it for just a little bit.”_

_It only made Michael feel guiltier that he hadn’t been there for his remaining brother. “Then I will share my optimism with you,” he said. “I am always here for you, Raphael. As I know you are here for me. Please know that your being here helps me. More than words can say.”_

_That seemed to make an impact, and Raphael’s smile grew in strength. “Thank you, Michael. You always know what I need to hear.” He seemed almost wistful. “I suppose that’s what you get, being Father’s First. I hope that one day, I can be just as good at leading as you are.”_

_“With me here, you won’t ever have to be the one in charge,” Michael promised. “And you lead your apprentices wonderfully.”_

_Something flitted across Raphael’s face for a moment, but then it was gone before Michael could see what it was. “I can lead if you need me to,” Raphael said. “Just…know that. Remember that.”_

_It was the one thing that Michael never wanted Raphael to bear. Sweet, kind Raphael didn’t deserve to bear the weight that came from being head archangel. And with Father disappearing more and more, the weight continued to increase and fall solely on Michael. No, Raphael didn’t need that._

_Michael wouldn’t have minded the task, honestly, if he’d had the support of Lucifer by his side. He wanted his brother back._

_The moment froze, faded out to somewhere dark, somewhere cold. The Cage. It was the day that Gabriel had told them to be ready. They were Falling today. Together._

_The nerves in his gut weren’t letting go. He didn’t want to Fall. He didn’t want to be human, he didn’t want to leave being an archangel behind. Who would want to lose everything that they were?_

_One look at Lucifer was all he needed to know. For his little brother, he would give his life. It was a deal he would always make. Because life without him wasn’t a life worth living._

_“He said we’ll be together, right?”_

_Michael turned to Lucifer who was leaning on the Cage bars. His Grace was so dim that Michael could’ve sworn he had already Fallen. He looked so frail, so colorless, and Michael nearly put himself into the Cage to comfort him._

_But Gabriel would be there any minute, and Michael would need all the strength of his Grace to help him._

_“We’ll always be together,” Michael promised. Lucifer didn’t look at all assured. “You and I will not be separated again. Gabriel will see to that, and so will I.”_

_“And if we are separated? What then, Michael?”_

_It seemed an almost ridiculous question, but the long years in the Cage had clearly hurt Lucifer’s confidence in Michael, in anything good for himself. It made Michael ache. “I’ll find you. I will always find you, little brother.” He wouldn’t let them be separated again. He would spend every minute making sure that Lucifer knew how loved he was._

_Lucifer smiled, or at least tried to. It was barely a smile at all, and it disappeared almost as soon as it came, his eyes filled with fear. “But will you know me?” he whispered brokenly. “Will you…love me?”_

_Michael opened his mouth to answer, but suddenly Gabriel was there. “Yeah, so, we’ve got a problem,” he said. “We need to do this and do this now. I know you asked me to make this happen and you_ want _this to happen, but for what it’s worth, I’m really sorry.”_

_No. No, no no, wait, he wasn’t ready, and Lucifer suddenly looked terrified. “Michael,” he said frantically. “Michael! Promise me!”_

_“Hang on!” Gabriel said, and he grabbed hold of both Lucifer and Michael. His eyes glowed a burning gold, brighter than Michael had ever seen, and all six of his wings flew out around him. His Grace was almost hot to the touch._

_Then it was so hot it burned. Oh Father, it burned. Michael’s entire being burned and felt as if he’d fallen into the farthest reaches of Hell. His wings felt wrong, like they were being ripped from his back in one tight pull, and he would’ve screamed if he’d had the ability to do it._

_He realized there was something worse than the heat, though: there was the cold. It sank into every part of him until all he could feel was a thudding in his chest. His wings were gone, leaving behind gaping wounds that ached throughout his entire body, they were gone-_

_And so was the chorus of the Host. He couldn’t feel his siblings at all, or his wings, or his Grace, nothing except the harsh beat in his cold, cold chest. It made him want to weep._

_“I have you,” came Gabriel’s voice, except it made his ears ache to hear it. Tears burned and it was wrong, so, so wrong._

_Lucifer. Where was Lucifer? He tried to talk but couldn’t figure out how to do it. Everything was wrong and he didn’t know how to make anything work. The worst of it all was that he didn’t know where his little brother was._

_The last thing he knew was Lucifer’s voice, broken and lacking any of his Grace, screaming his name._

He gasped awake and sat straight up. He reached for his chest instinctively, grasping at it in a futile attempt to keep his Grace within him. He felt hollow, carved out.

His wings. He tried to twist and reach behind him, but there was nothing, they were gone, _they were gone_ -

“Hey, hey, easy. Easy, Michael.”

That same voice saying his name, but this time, it wasn’t being screamed hoarsely. It was whispered in an attempt to soothe, no pain, no fear behind it. Just his little brother, safe and sound. “Luce,” he choked out.

“Yeah, I’m here. You’re all right.”

Two hands held him tight, and they both rested against where his wings should’ve been. His eyes burned against his brother’s neck, and he didn’t know if he could say why.

“It’s okay. You’re okay, I’m okay. Just breathe.”

So he did. Deep breaths that felt tiny, that felt wrong inside this body that wasn’t his, but it was. His wings were gone and his Grace torn from him and he was just this tiny speck of cold bones and a harsh _thud thud thud_ of a heartbeat. He’d Fallen.

But the reason why was there with him, warm and safe. He brought his own hands up and held on tight. “I’ll always know you,” he murmured.

There was a pause. “Well, that’s good.”

The hesitation was enough to pull him out of _Michael_ and back to _Dean._ Because that wasn’t Lucifer, not really, not yet. It was pure Sam, tentative and trying to guess how to say the right thing. He didn’t remember what he’d said as Lucifer, right before they’d Fallen.

“Sammy,” he said.

“Dean? You back with me?”

Dean nodded and let Sam carefully pull away. The dark of the room hid most of his features, but what Dean could see was his little brother, and for a moment, he saw Lucifer, dim and dying, behind the bars of the Cage. He shook himself and focused on the here and now. “Yeah,” he said roughly. He rubbed a hand down over his face. “M’all right.”

“It’s usually me that gets the nightmare,” Sam joked, but he didn’t look happy about it. “You sure you’re okay? Because the last thing we need is the both of us not being able to breathe at night.”

His heartbeat was already settling. “Nah, that’s all yours,” Dean said. He gave Sam a playful shove, earning a snort. “Don’t want to steal your thunder or anything.”

“Oh yeah, my _thunder_. Because I just love not being able to breathe. Jerk.”

“Bitch.” Despite the barely-there light of the moon, Dean could still see far more of Sam’s features than he’d thought before. And they didn’t look good. “Are _you_ okay?”

“Peachy,” Sam said quickly. “No bad nightmares for me.”

Dean narrowed his gaze. Then he realized the light wasn’t from the moon, but instead a small reading light attached to a book on Sam’s bed. It clipped the book almost in half. He swung accusing eyes to Sam, who looked just as guilty, yet still defiant, as Dean had figured he would. “You told me you weren’t going to stay up all night again,” he said.

Sam glared back. “You were down there for hours, throwing crap around in the panic room. The last thing you needed was me having a nightmare, especially with no way to get me back to sleep afterwards.”

That brought him up short. “What do you mean?”

Sam said nothing, but his face took on that same, uncomfortable pinched look that it had earlier when he’d first come looking for Dean outside. Dean’s eyes widened. “Gabriel still hasn’t come back?” he asked.

“No,” Sam said quietly. “Not that I’ve noticed.”

It was longer than Dean had figured the archangel would disappear for, but he could guess why Gabriel hadn’t come back. He’d always had a sharp tongue and a short fuse, and it had gotten him into a few instances of red-faced shame. Apparently he’d decided to hide away instead of own up this time. He had a feeling that Gabe’s time as Loki was responsible for that.

Still, it was worrisome that he’d been gone for as long as he had, especially with Zachariah gunning for them. “Leave him be,” Sam said, as if he could read Dean’s thoughts. “He just…needs time.”

“Yeah, no. He’s had time. Time for his big brothers to haul his ass home. _Both_ of them,” he said when it looked as if Sam might argue. “And if you’re not sleeping, you’ve got plenty of time tonight to help.”

Sam rolled his eyes but rolled off the bed and headed towards his own. He glanced back before turning off the light to where Dean was getting dressed. “You’re sure you’re okay?” he asked. “You looked…bad. Usually your dreams don’t come with the level of panic that mine do.”

_You can tell me, if you want._ But he’d given Dean the out, too. It made him remember just why he’d taken the big tumble in the first place, because every time he thought he couldn’t love the kid more, his little brother continued to surprise him.

“I remembered the Fall,” he said. Sam startled. “The actual Fall, losing my Grace and…and my wings.” It made his back ache just to think about it, and he pulled his shirt over his head to push the feeling away.

Sam’s face twisted in sympathy. “They’re heavy,” he said. “You feel a little bit off balance without them.”

He’d talked about having the wings as solid blocks of ice on his back before, courtesy of the Cage. But Dean hadn’t understood what the weight had meant until they’d been taken from him as well. “Yeah,” he said. Then, “We’ll get them back.”

This time, his brother’s face was more a grimace. “Maybe,” Sam said. “I’m not sure me getting my Grace back is going to be a good idea.”

“You’re not going back down there,” Dean said, anger rising again at the mere thought. It sparked every single protective urge he’d ever had, both as a human and as an archangel. The thought of Sam being in that Cage, of Lucifer being back down there, made his very being hurt. “Come hell or high water, I’m not letting it happen. We’ll figure it out.”

“Screw Death?” Sam asked, but there was a smile on his face now.

“Screw Death,” Dean confirmed. “We’ve been saying it for years as Winchesters, why stop now?”

He pulled his amulet out from underneath his long-sleeved t-shirt and grabbed the thicker plaid shirt hanging from a nearby chair. If Gabriel had gone to where Dean had guessed, it was going to be cold. “Let’s see if Cas is still up and willing to give us a ride.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I had a great question asked about Raphael being older than Lucifer but not higher than him in hierarchy. I figured I would share the answer here with you because it means not just bending show's canon, but also the typical mythos of the church and lore. I have a major in Classics so doing research in this is sort of a hobby, apologies in advance.
> 
> So Raphael, in the show's canon, is the little brother of both Lucifer and Michael (third in the lineup). However, in church and lore mythos (mythos being Greek for story, not myth as we tend to think of it as meaning something made up), Lucifer isn't an archangel at all; it's Michael, with Raphael and Gabriel by his side. Hilariously enough, when four archangels are mentioned, meaning four to cover each corner of the earth, it's not Lucifer, it's Uriel as the fourth. Lucifer doesn't actually become known as an angel for some time; the first Biblical reference to him is as Heylel, or to the planet Venus, or what they called the morning star. It's not until later scholars, starting as early as the 11th century, began to put the name Lucifer from Revelations (attributed to Satan) to the fallen one from the book of Isaiah that he becomes considered a fallen angel. Dante and Milton both ran with it in their texts, "The Inferno" and "Paradise Lost", respectively.
> 
> As an angel, Lucifer is always considered in the mythos to be the leader of the rebellion and subsequently cast down from Heaven. His transgressions range from pride to jealousy to too many questions (all parents of little kids can feel this one) all the way to full-out war. It's only in modern times that Lucifer ascends (please pause for irony here) to archangel status. Supernatural is actually one of the few places that labeled and used Lucifer as an archangel.
> 
> SO. All of my religious/mythological/Classics research here, I wanted to bend show canon to mythos canon, and I wanted Sam/Lucifer to have a second older brother while keeping him a little brother. It also made for some potential rivalry between all the brothers, as Raphael here was next in line creation-wise but Lucifer was considered above him, which I'll get to in a bit in the story. Ultimately, mythos of Raphael being one of the main archangels made me put him a little bit higher and older than Lucifer. Hopefully that makes some sense.

The last thing Sam wanted to do was join Dean and Castiel on their mission to find Gabriel. It wasn’t that Gabriel being missing didn’t concern him because it did. Zachariah still hadn’t shown his ugly face since the Pestilence mess, so he was always a factor. And of course, there was a chance of Heaven causing issues, Hell springing up – Sam could spend hours detailing lists of Things That Could Go Wrong.

Okay, he was stalling. He wasn’t a very good big brother. Dean wouldn’t have let him go off to sulk after saying something that burned. He would’ve hauled Sam back and chewed his head off, then probably hugged him into submission. He supposed he could be forgiven since he hadn’t exactly been a big brother very long.

And it had hurt. Stupidly enough, he’d gotten used to leaning on Gabriel, seeing him as a brother, depending on him. Caring about him. To be tossed aside, to be disowned-

Sam had had it happen enough times to be completely over it. Father had done it. Dad had done it. Dean had almost done it.

But Dean hadn’t left him or abandoned him, and he was going after Gabriel with the same determination. And if Gabriel was in trouble, Sam wanted to be there for him too.

Dean was definitely fired up. He stood in the living room, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet when Sam finally made it down. Castiel appeared equally awake, though Sam wasn’t certain he could sleep. Still, he looked concerned and ready to go. “Can you make the flight?” Dean was asking.

“Easily,” Castiel said. “I’ve got enough energy back to manage it. I could carry all four of us back if I had to, and archangels aren’t light.”

Sam hadn’t exactly considered the weight of an archangel, but he figured now wasn’t the time to get into the physics of it. “You think he’s in Norway,” he said. It wasn’t hard to guess where Dean thought Gabriel had gone.

Dean nodded shortly. “Safe house.”

“He has others,” Sam pointed out. “He said so himself.”

“Yeah, but we don’t know about those. And he knows we’ll come looking for him eventually. He wants us to. Making the first step’s never been easy for him.”

For a moment, jealousy burned through Sam. All of those memories, and he didn’t have them. Dean remembered, so of course Dean knew about being a big brother to Gabriel. It wasn’t like Sam had any of those memories, any of the same chances to be a big brother.

An elbow nudged him in the side. Dean’s eyes were dark and knowing. “Quit it,” he growled. “I warned you if you picked on my brother again, you’d answer to me. So knock it off.”

Sam glowered at him but only crossed his arms. It wasn’t like he was wrong and Dean knew it, but arguing with him at the moment was going to be akin to talking with a brick wall.

He got a glare but Dean thankfully let it go. “Cas, if you’re ready, let’s hit it.”

“We haven’t told you about the plan with the Mark yet,” Sam pointed out.

Dean shook his head. “No point, dude. We’d just have to go over it again with Gabe so we might as well get him first, then start talking it over.”

Fine. “Do you want to wake Bobby?”

The look he got from Dean told him that his big brother wasn’t stupid and knew exactly what he was trying to do. “Not if I can help it. This’ll be a quick trip, there and back with Gabe in tow. So let’s go.”

“I can just stay, make the load lighter for carrying-“

This time, insultingly, it was Castiel who rolled his eyes. “Please stop trying to remain behind. You’re coming with us so Gabriel can apologize in person.”

There was a downside to having more than one brother now: more people to gang up on him and see right through him. Sam pursed his lips but finally sighed. “Then let’s go before we do wind up waking Bobby up,” he said dully.

Castiel reached out to touch both of their foreheads, but not before Dean took hold of Sam’s elbow. It wasn’t a firm grip, just a light touch of three fingers tucked around his joint, just like he used to when they were kids and he wanted to keep Sam close. Gentle, reassuring. _I’m here, Sam._

It helped. More than Dean probably even knew.

Then they were gone.

Nothing tasted right.

This was the problem with being upset: when Gabriel was upset, all of his taste buds went with it. It made it almost impossible to stress eat. And if anyone deserved to stress eat right then and there, it was him.

He sat in the dining room, a beautiful room with two large doorways and plush, resplendent chairs that he’d fashioned himself. The oak table was laden with every single type of snack he could imagine and then some. The milkshake in his hand was decadent, chocolate syrup and whipped cream and three cherries on top because fuck it, he felt like it. And he could barely taste any of it. Same as all the other sweets and treats that were laid out across the table. Maybe popcorn-

Popcorn just took him back to Death, and the old bastard telling them that Sam would either end up back in the Cage or end up mad, and Gabriel’s plan wasn’t going to work, and Dad was stupid and gone. And Gabriel was never going to get Lucifer back, and if he lost Lucifer, he’d lose Michael. Then he’d lose Sam to madness or the Cage, and then he’d lose Dean.

Suddenly furious again, he heaved the milkshake glass back and threw it at the wall, hard enough to shatter the glass and put a dent in the wood panels. Deep breaths, he needed to get a hold of himself. Deep breaths.

His mind flashed back to Sam when they’d returned, hopeful smile turned into shock and visible hurt because Gabriel couldn’t keep his tongue in check. He’d put that look on Sam’s face.

He flew to his feet, grabbed hold of the edge of the table and tipped the entire thing upside down. All of the snacks he’d conjured went flying everywhere until there was an ungodly mess of broken dishes and food.

Ungodly. Ha.

He felt the Grace before he recognized who it was, heard the shuffle of wings as Castiel landed neatly inside his living room. The two souls with him weren’t a surprise either. He supposed he ought to be grateful that they hadn’t dragged Singer into this. No, just Dean, his soul bright and still just as angry as it had been when he’d last seen him, and Sam with his soul that was-

Dimmed. Gabriel could all but feel the insecurity dimming the light that was typically Sam.

Aw hell. Sure, make him feel even worse. Welp, that would explain the anger from Dean, then, too.

With a wave Gabriel set the mess to rights and got rid of everything. The dent in the wall he left where it was, just to spite himself. Because it was his house and he could destroy it if he wanted to.

No point in putting them off. He straightened and pulled his best you-know-you-want-to-punch-me grin out. It had never failed to make Thor angry when he saw it, and anger was easier to deal with than broken or hurt. If he could piss Dean off, chances were he could get Sam there, too.

“Fellas,” he greeted, strolling out of the dining room and into the living room. Three pairs of eyes moved towards him, though one pair quickly turned away. Guilt clawed a little more at Gabriel’s insides. “Welcome to my humble abode again. We never really did the full tour last time. I’ve got a jacuzzi, if you’re interested.”

“You’re okay?” Dean asked, eyebrow raised. The question threw Gabriel for a minute.

“What?”

“Well, you were gone way longer than even I expected you to flutter off for, so I figured now was the time for a house call. So…no demons come to get you, no angels knocking at your door? You’re all okay?”

_I feel like I’m dying inside as any chance of getting my big brothers back diminishes, and the chance of losing you and Sam grows, but sure, I’m peachy keen._ “Couldn’t be better,” Gabriel said and broadened his smile until his face hurt. “I got speedos for those who didn’t bring their swim gear.”

Castiel glowered at him. “We need to get back to working on the Mark.”

“Oh, yeah, the Mark,” Gabriel said, his smile falling away instantly. “The same bullshit we tried to deal with years ago and had no answer for. Let me just go peel it off of Cain’s arm and, what, carry it around? Burn it? Make a scarf out of it?”

“Cas and Sam think we can bind it permanently to Cain,” Dean said. Despite the tightly controlled anger in his voice, his eyes told a different story, and the look was so _Michael_ that Gabriel clenched his fists. “Some Enochian spell that’s meant to keep demons in the host.”

Another surprise. “Wait, that spell? Raphael’s spell?”

“I thought the irony was poetic, if nothing else,” Castiel said. Huh. Apparently Castiel _did_ have a sense of humor.

Sam spoke up for the first time since they’d landed. “Raphael’s spell?”

“Easier to not kill a person if you can ‘heal’ the demon by keeping it locked in the host,” Gabriel said. “Or at least, that’s what Raph thought. It’s pretty hardcore for what’s typically a binding spell. It needs angel blood to do it properly. The stronger the better.”

“Your blood would be more than sufficient to bind the Mark to Cain forever,” Castiel said. “We have an option.”

“Then we can just chuck Cain into the Cage,” Dean said, then threw his hands up in the air at everyone’s looks. “What? I can’t be the only one thinking it. We seal the Mark into the Cage and boom, a problem solved.”

“Except for my Cage remnant,” Sam said quietly. “We talked that option over last night while you were…downstairs.” Dean’s face went taut with anger, and despite himself, part of Gabriel wanted to reach out because it wasn’t just Sam that was hurting, it was Dean who apparently had done some damage himself. “It wouldn’t deal with that by throwing Cain into the Cage.”

“Sam’s right. Even if that takes care of the Mark, the bigger problem’s in his head.”

Sam deflated a little more as he spoke. Dean pursed his lips. “Can’t you just…combine them, the Mark and the Cage? Didn’t the Mark used to be Lucifer’s? Shouldn’t they go together like peanut butter and jelly?”

It almost hurt to pop the little balloon of hope that Dean had going for him. Even Sam had perked up a little at the potential thought, but Gabriel shook his head. “Not that I wouldn’t love to be able to wrap the Cage remnant around the Mark, but I can’t. The problem is that the Mark currently exists on Cain. I’d have to put the Mark on Sam in order to get the Cage piece to bite, and _then_ toss it into the void that is the Cage. And that trifecta would probably lead to very bad things. Like losing a part of Sam. Or Lucifer blowing the world up. Or, my favorite, the Cage taking the whole kit and caboodle down to its depths.”

Sam’s shoulders were almost up to his ears and he was glaring ineffectually at the floor. Dean glanced at him before turning an unimpressed look on Gabriel. “So that’s it, huh? Write him off? First he starts calling you Gabriel instead of Gabe, and now you’re using his name instead of any one of your wackadoodle nicknames?”

He hadn’t honestly realized he’d been doing it, but pointed out to him, it was pretty obvious. He felt heavier, weighed down, and he tried to shake it off. “Figured he’d like to hear his real name every now and then,” Gabriel said, aiming for casual and falling flat on his face.

Dean’s simmering temper flared a little. “He’d like to hear from his _brothers_. And that includes you.”

The heat of Gabriel’s own temper began to grow as well. “Listen here, _Dean-o_ , having Michael’s memories doesn’t make you Michael any more than Sam’s memories makes him Lucifer.”

“Yeah, sure. Because it’s not like anything we do or say reminds you of two archangels or anything like that. Not like we have their personality or looks or anything.”

He’d forgotten how infuriating Michael could be to argue with. Unfortunately, just as the statement appeared on his lips, he clamped his mouth shut tight because he’d been about to prove Michael right, dammit.

Prove _Dean_ right.

How was it possible to lo-care, _care_ , about someone so much and yet want to put their head through a wall?

“I can make you look like Cinderella if I wanted to,” Gabriel pointed out. “It still doesn’t make you a princess. Though you in glass slippers might be interesting.”

Dean’s frustration was finally starting to hit a max peak level, so Gabriel amped up the smirk. “How about Belle? No, Sam might be able to pull that off a bit better, long-haired brunette with book worm fever, and Cas, you’d make a great Snow White, big blue eyes and absolutely _clueless_ -“

“Please come back.”

The voice, soft though it was, was enough to stop Gabriel in his tracks. Sam met his gaze for the first time since they’d arrived, and they were filled with just as much hurt as Gabriel had expected.

But they were also filled with that stubbornness that he was so well acquainted with, that same mulish determination that Gabriel had seen in his big brother for millennia.

“I get it,” Sam continued in that same quiet voice that had taken over the entire room somehow. “You’re scared. I am too. I mean, it’s me on the line, right? If we don’t figure out what to do about the Mark, then I’m…I’m going to lose my mind or wind up back in the Cage.”

Gabriel swallowed hard at the very image he painted. The others looked no better: Castiel was focused intently on the floor, and Dean had shut his eyes tight.

Sam forced his shoulders back. “But I can’t dwell on it right now. And I damn well can’t fix it without everyone’s help. Without your help. I need you to help me, Gabe-Gabriel,” he amended, and Gabriel was pretty sure that was his heart being shredded in his chest. He didn’t think he’d ever hated himself so much before.

Sam’s earnestness ought to be boxed up and only used in emergency circumstances. Those puppy eyes were too strong a weapon to use on an everyday basis: it was like bringing an uzi to a knife fight every single time. Gabriel bit his lip and couldn’t find the words he needed to tell Sam off, to be the flippant, easy-going trickster he desperately wanted to be.

Sam seemed to falter a bit in the silence. “So…please. Just…just please come back and help.”

Gabriel fought to pull in a breath that would let him talk. Anything to say in the face of Sam’s open admission and obvious fear. “I-“

Suddenly the windows crashed in, and Gabriel immediately took two steps towards the group, wings up to defend. Dean was already two steps ahead of him, stepping between himself and Sam as Sam moved in front of Castiel. Three beings stood from the wreckage of glass, and every single one of them had black eyes.

Demons. As one they surveyed the group, then turned their gaze to him.

Well…shit.

Great. They’d figured that there would be demons messing around with Gabriel. Guess they’d just beaten the demons to the punch.

One of the demons took them all in and began to smile. “Get the demi-god,” he hissed. “And the party-crashers. You showed up a little earlier than anticipated, but that’s all right.”

“Please,” Gabriel snapped. “As if you could handle any of us, let alone _me_.”

A loud crashing sound upstairs signaled more demons. Gabriel just crossed his arms and glowered. “If you tear up my house, I’m going to be very pissed off, just to let you know. And when I’m pissed off? You won’t like it.”

One of the other demons chuckled. “As if we didn’t come prepared for you, Loki. It’s insulting, honestly. We warded the house with some creative runes and a little Enochian because we figured your new angel friend would show up at some point.” He held up a set of manacles that looked old, rusted and disused. But the runes on them were Norse, that much Sam could tell, and they glowed an ugly shade of green.

Gabriel froze, the first glimmers of real fear appearing in his eyes. And that told Sam everything he needed to know.

“Can you fly with those wards?” Dean asked.

Castiel grimaced. “Not out of the house, no. And whatever I can do in here is going to be difficult to accomplish.”

“Just gets better and better,” Sam said through gritted teeth. Gabriel slowly backed up towards the stairs, but behind him were three more demons coming down towards him. “Look out!” he shouted and Gabriel turned and threw out a hand. The demons disappeared in a puff of ashes. The demon with the manacles snarled and dove into the fray.

“Go!” Dean shouted. Castiel already had his blade in hand, even as another four, no, five, no, _six_ demons hurried in the windows. Holy _shit._ Without thinking Sam reached out with his hand towards the demon with the manacles. The demon choked and reached for his throat, eyes bulging out of some poor guy’s sockets. As horrible as Sam felt about the human host who hadn’t asked to be possessed, his attention was more focused on keeping his brothers safe.

And that included Gabriel, no matter what the jerk said.

He found the root of the demon deep inside and pulled. The demon came out in a plume of smoke, already crackling. Sam snarled and tightened his fist and the demon crackled once, twice, and then fell to the floor as a pile of ashes.

Castiel dove forward, eyes on the manacles. Another two demons raced towards him, and Sam grabbed one while Castiel swung his blade up and through the second one. Sam could feel another presence coming up behind him and reached his other arm out without looking. The gurgling sound told him he’d hit true, and he clenched both hands tight and yanked hard. Twin smoke streams came out and he toasted both of them with satisfaction. He licked his lips and tasted copper.

Shit.

Gabriel had three demons held off on the stairs, and Dean was at his back, fending off another two with the demon knife. Sam would never take his brother’s paranoia for granted again. Always be prepared: the boy scouts had nothing on the Winchesters.

Four more demons came crawling in the window and Sam caught one. When he tried for the second, the first demon burst free of his grasp. “Cas!” he yelled and Castiel flew to where the demons were and swung through one. The second caught Castiel by his free arm and sent him flying into the stone wall near the fireplace.

“Dean!” Sam shouted. Dean and Gabriel were on the second floor, down to a demon each, but they both turned at his yell. The other two demons barreled towards the downed angel and he caught them as best he could. They stayed in place but fought against him, and he could feel his grasp weakening, as if his palms were covered in oil. His brain felt tight, like his skull was shrinking, and he could feel the drip of blood rolling down from his nose.

This one would be bad to recover from. He’d consider himself lucky if they lived through this for him to recover.

Castiel groggily sat up just as Dean reached him, and two more demons followed after him. Sam grabbed them and weakly shoved, and they stumbled backwards, but it was long enough for the other two demons he’d had in his grasp to shove free. Dean slid the knife up and around and caught one in the throat, giving Castiel enough time to get his blade up in defense.

Sam reached out again but his hold was weaker still, and the pain in his skull had reached a point where he thought he’d throw up. He heard Gabriel yell upstairs and shut his eyes briefly. _Please Gabriel be okay. Please._

There were just too many. He couldn’t control them all. Desperation made him throw his arm out to the side towards another demon, but it wasn’t doing any good. No, he’d lost hold of the one on the left, and there were another three coming, he had to grab them, if he could just focus past the pain in his head, all he had to do was _focus_ -

A fist shot out across his jaw, sending him to the ground. Stars burst across his vision, and even as he tried to get his bearings, get back to his feet, he found himself being lifted well above the ground and thrown across the room. He landed with a crash through the glass table and gasped as sharp pain cut through him. His lungs couldn’t seem to pull in air and his stomach felt…wrong. All of it was wrong. He tried to move but the pain in his head skyrocketed, making everything fade out for a minute. Dazed and pinned, he could only lay there and watch as the demon ran towards him, pulling a knife out as he ran.

“ _Sammy_!”

Suddenly the room went bright after Dean screamed, brighter than Sam had ever seen before, and he shut his eyes tight. The light grew so bright he could see it perfectly behind his eyelids, and he weakly threw up his arm to shield himself from the heat that was starting to make his eyes burn.

Make all of him burn, actually, but it felt…warm. Familiar. Despite the heat, it wasn’t burning him to a crisp.

Howls tore through the air. Above them all came a voice like thunder, rage in every single syllable.

“ ** _Do. Not. Touch. My brother._** ”

The screams rose higher and higher until suddenly they went silent. The light slowly began to fade away, and Sam dared to open his eyes.

The demons were gone. All of them. Small piles of ash stood where they’d been. Most of them were still smoldering, and each one was sure to have left a serious stain on the rugs. He managed to move his gaze from the piles surrounding him to where the voice had come from.

On the second-floor balcony, the wood bannister hung in pieces, as if there had been an explosion. There’d been an explosion all right. And it had come in the form of a pissed off archangel.

Gabriel’s eyes still held a fiery glow, and all six of his wings were visible for once, and Sam’s jaw dropped in awe. Even as he watched, the wings twitched in what Sam somehow knew was anger. He stood tall and proud and dangerous. Everything about him screamed _do not fuck with me_ and it was frightening to behold. Amazing too, but the sheer power he was emanating was enough to make Sam shiver.

The motion was enough to jostle whatever had him pinned, and he cried out in pain. The taste of copper flooded his mouth and he coughed, trying to take in a clear breath. All around him the room began to fade out, and his vision began to go dark. No, no, not now, please-

There was a flap of wings and suddenly Gabriel was there, kneeling beside him. Footsteps raced across the room and Dean slid to a stop above him. His face was ashen as he looked at Sam, and Sam knew it was bad. “Gabriel-“ Dean began.

“I have him,” Gabriel said, voice barely contained from its majesty earlier. While his eyes still held a glow like a burning ember, he was nothing but gentle as he rested his hand on Sam’s chest. The rage was gone, and in its place was a tenderness Sam hadn’t thought possible. “I have you, brother,” he promised softly.

The pain disappeared. His vision came back in startling clarity. Sam pulled in a breath and found that he could move again. He sat up carefully with Gabriel and Dean’s help before making his way to his feet. No pain. Nothing. Not even tired. Frowning, he glanced back behind him before Dean or Gabriel could stop him.

That was…a lot of blood. Broken shards of glass went every which way, and almost every single one had blood on them. No wonder Dean had been freaked.

“You had at least two piercing straight through, Sam,” Gabriel said. “Yeah, you could say we were a little freaked.”

“I feared you were dead,” Castiel agreed. He came over and rested a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “You probably would’ve been if Gabriel hadn’t been so ‘quick on the draw.’” His finger quotations with his free hand would’ve been humorous any other time, but Sam’s attention had already moved towards Dean.

Dean had turned away, hand to his mouth. After hesitating, indecision warring inside him, Sam decided to give him his moment to compose himself and turned instead to Gabriel. “Thank you,” he said.

Gabriel managed to look both sheepish and pleased at the same time. “Wasn’t sure I even _could_ with the wards, but turns out, if I’m pissed off enough, I _can_ blast through some cheap-ass wards. And I’m always quick when it comes to family,” he added. “Just…sometimes too quick with the mouth.” His face twisted in remorse. “I…I shouldn’t have said-“

“We’re okay, Gabe,” Sam cut in. Gabriel’s shoulders dropped a solid two inches when he heard his name. Sam gave a tentative smile at his earnestness. “We’re all good.”

“Some of us more than others,” Castiel said, stealing a sideways glance at Dean, who was still turned around. His entire body radiated tension, which, hey, Sam could see the damage. He’d heard the scream as the demon had come for him.

He moved towards Dean, but before he could say or do much else, Dean whirled on him and punched him in the arm. Hard. “Ow!” Sam rubbed at his shoulder, scowling. “What the hell was that for?”

“You know damn well what it’s for,” Dean snapped. “You almost died. _Again_. And I’m sick of having to watch you nearly die and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.”

“It’s what happens when you hunt,” Sam said, glaring at him. He knew Dean was just upset but that stupid slug to his arm was going to leave a bruise. “It’s not exactly like I’m trying to do this on purpose.”

“Don’t do it again,” Dean said, and Sam swallowed his initial response. Dean didn’t want his sarcasm or his irritation. He wanted a promise that Sam couldn’t possibly try to keep, but he’d damn well try.

“Okay,” Sam said. Dean pursed his lips. “Okay, I’ll do my best.”

“There. Was that so hard?”

Sam narrowed his gaze, but the tone told him that his brother had slowly started to come down from the freak-out he’d had. To be fair, they’d been up against the wall a lot lately. And probably more deadly situations to come.

But Dean had asked. And that was all he needed to try.

“How can we help return things to a better state?” Castiel asked. “Your home is a mess, Gabriel.”

Sam turned and surveyed the damage now that the demons were nothing but ash on the floor. The windows were all shattered, and blood seemed to drape everything. The furniture seemed well past the point of salvaging, and even as they watched, one of the lights hanging from the ceiling dropped and crashed to the ground, making Sam wince.

“Nope, I’m leaving it. Besides,” and Gabriel seemed hesitant to keep going, but finally continued, “this wasn’t ever really home. You guys were home. My brothers. I haven’t had that in a long time.”

“You have it now,” Sam said. “We’re not going anywhere.”

Gabriel gave a small grin. “You better not. I’ll just keep bringing you back from the brink of death which, by the way, isn’t as easy as I keep making it look.”

“Any chance we can _not_ be on the brink of death all the time?” Dean muttered. “I’m personally kinda tired of it.”

“Seconded,” Castiel said firmly.

It was as touching as it was annoying, but Sam was leaning towards touched at the moment. He had Castiel literally standing at his side, and Gabriel there too. And Dean, always there, always protecting him and being the best damn big brother he could’ve ever hoped for. Despite the carnage, he felt almost light as a feather.

“Back to Singer’s?” Gabriel asked.

“Yeah. And maybe some of us can sleep,” Dean said with a very pointed look at Sam. Sam just rolled his eyes. “He didn’t even bother trying.”

Gabriel scowled at Sam. “I can fix that, Samshine, but for Dad’s sake you have to at least _try_ to sleep.”

As obnoxious as all of the nicknames were sometimes, he was beginning to hold _Samshine_ in much the same level as he did _Sammy_ from Dean. It was clearly said with affection, meant to convey love no matter what the tone of the rest of the message was. The rest of the names were okay too, but…this one meant more. He could feel it.

“Time for you to hit the hay. And for me to…deal with this way, _way_ later,” Gabriel said. His eyes landed on something and Sam followed his gaze to where the manacles lay, next to the fireplace where Castiel had dropped them.

“Leave ‘em here?” Dean asked, eyes also on the cuffs.

“No,” Gabriel said after a minute. “Too powerful to just leave them hanging around unattended. I, uh, probably shouldn’t be the one handling them.”

Without a word Dean stepped over and grabbed the manacles. He tucked them under his arm, visible but not blatantly so. Gabriel seemed to relax when they were no longer out in the open. “Thanks,” he said. “Now let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Can you fly? With the wards?”

“Oh, they’re gone,” Gabriel said. He gave a feral grin. “Blew ‘em to kingdom come when I went archangel on their asses. It wasn’t something I particularly wanted to do because that beacon lit up like a firework across the angel network, but we were out of options.”

With a snap of his fingers they were back in Bobby’s house. Nothing was out of place except for the fact that Bobby now sat at the kitchen table, coffee cup in hand. He blinked when they appeared but didn’t seem too concerned about it.

Then all of a sudden, his eyes went wide, and he lurched up from the table, sloshing coffee everywhere. Gabriel and Castiel were both staring in horror, and Dean’s mouth fell open, eyes wide with terror. It took Sam a minute to realize they were all staring at _him_.

Something wet dribbled on his lip, and he reached up, only to wipe away two streaming blood trails from both his nostrils.

Then his skull felt as if it had been caved in, and his legs gave out beneath him. _Guess I won’t need that help to sleep, after all,_ was the last conscious thought he had before he landed against something soft and familiar.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter dedicated to lissa_ann who's having a rough few days. Love you sweetie!

“He all right?”

“Seems to be,” Dean said. He glanced in the living room, where Sam was currently laid out on the sofa. The skin underneath his nose was still stained a little red. There’d been…a lot of blood.

Not as much as when Sam had landed in the glass table, glass shards piercing up through him, making him cough and stain his lips red while almost gushing blood elsewhere. But still. A lot of blood before Sam had dropped like a sack of potatoes. There would’ve been a lot more blood if Dean hadn’t dove forward and caught him before he hit the ground.

Honestly, if he hadn’t caught Sam, though, Gabriel might’ve beaten him to it. As tired as the angel clearly was from bursting through the wards and smiting anywhere near a dozen demons at once, he’d been quick on the draw to get to Sam’s side. He’d looked just as freaked out as Dean had until he’d rested a hand to Sam’s head and said he’d be all right.

Even now, as Gabriel refilled his own coffee and added another dollop of whipped cream to the top, the archangel also stole a glance towards Sam. “There’s not much I can do,” he said. “I mean, I healed him up so well that it held off on the whole pass out thing until I flew us back here, but otherwise, he just needs rest and time.”

“Not sure that’s somethin’ we got a lot of right now,” Bobby said.

“Tough,” Dean said firmly. “He needs sleep. And rest. And five minutes of some semblance of peace.” He resisted the urge to look back at Sam again, then wondered _why_ he was resisting. Fuck it. He turned and watched Sam’s chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm. Asleep. Alive.

“How many did he take on?” Bobby asked.

Dean hadn’t even really thought about it until after Sam had gone down. He’d been terrified for a minute that Sam had no real weapons on him to deal with demons, because he’d had the knife himself, but then Sam had just started tearing through one demon after another, lightning and smoke everywhere. After that, well. He’d been busy trying to get to Gabriel where the archangel had been pinned on the stairs. Then Castiel on the floor when Sam had called for him. Then-

Nope, not going there. Not thinking about Sam landing in a heap of glass with two large pieces sticking up straight through his abdomen. Nope.

“He killed at least three,” Castiel said. He sounded proud and in awe. “Then held off at least another six or so, to the best of my recollection. He saved my life. He’s stronger than I’d thought him capable of at this point.”

“Yeah, that’s sort of the problem,” Gabriel said. “He overdid it. At this point, Sam-I-Am ought to be handling maybe two demons, tops, until he gets a hold of how to build up that psychic muscle of his. But he’s going after four times that. It’s like running a marathon with no prep. You’ll make it, probably, but you’ll drop dead at the end.”

Dean glared at him. “Could we not talk about Sam and dead in the same sentence?”

“Sure, Pollyanna. Whatever you want.”

“All right, enough,” Bobby said sternly. “Main point is that we got a lot of work to do before the next round starts. I ain’t thrilled with the fact that a small army of demons just made a run at a demi-god.”

“It’s what I was sort of afraid of,” Dean pointed out. “It was gonna be Hell or Heaven after us. What I don’t like is that it was just a bunch of random-ass demons, and that they went after _you_. I mean, a demi-god isn’t a small target to kill.”

“Capture.”

Dean frowned. Gabriel stared into his mug and was currently swirling the whipped cream around with his finger. “What?”

“Capture,” Gabriel said quietly. “Those manacles they had would be enough to mostly bind me. They did a few centuries back, and it took every ounce of my archangel power to break out of them last time. Those runes are serious business. But they’re not meant to kill. They’re meant to capture.”

Something slimy wormed its way into Dean’s gut, and he swallowed against a sudden rush of bile. Captured? It was more alarming than them just wanting Loki dead. Killing a demi-god meant just taking him out of the picture.

Capturing, though. Capturing meant interrogating, ransoming. Torturing.

A protective rage surged through him and it took everything he had to not snarl out loud. If they tried with Gabriel again, Dean would make sure it was the last thing they did.

Gabriel’s smile grew a little, and Dean was sure he was projecting pretty hard. Whatever. It didn’t make it any less true. He’d happily disembowel any asshole who tried to come after his brother again.

“Any chance Zachariah’s behind the demons?” he asked.

“Not really his style,” Gabriel said. “But then again, I haven’t seen him in a long time. He could’ve.”

Bobby took a long drag from his mug. Dean was pretty sure there was alcohol in his coffee. “At least it would explain why he’s not been around, if he’s got others doin’ his dirty work.”

“Zachariah’s silence is disconcerting,” Castiel agreed. “I don’t like it. He should’ve been back already.”

Another thing Dean really didn’t want to look at too closely. If he wasn’t behind the demons, then Zachariah’s lack of involvement was alarming at the least. “How about any surveillance on him?” Dean asked. “Gabe, Cas, any angels you could trust to give us intel on the other side?”

Gabriel pursed his lips. “I don’t keep in touch with anyone from Heaven anymore. And that’s not a card I want to play yet.”

Castiel’s silence took longer to break, but when he spoke, his reply was thoughtful. “I might. Anna being one, perhaps. Anael being another. There are a few fledglings I could perhaps talk over. Naomi is…firm.”

“No,” Dean said immediately. Both Gabriel and Castiel glanced at him in surprise. “Uh, no,” he said again. “Bad idea.”

“Something you’d like to share with the class?” Bobby asked.

Might as well. He stole a look at Sam – still breathing, still out for the count – and sighed. “My last dream. I remembered talking with Raphael, I guess somewhere around the Crusades, and he mentioned…he mentioned Naomi and Zachariah. Said they were his new crew because Luce was locked up, Gabe was presumed dead, and I was…well, I was gone all the time. I got the impression from my own memories as Michael that Naomi and Zachariah were trouble back then.”

“Zachariah was always a pleaser in order to get what he wanted. Over the top compliments, you get the drill. But Naomi…” Gabriel pursed his lips in thoughtfulness. “Naomi was always quiet, always a rule-follower. If she started getting buddy-buddy with Zachariah, that was after I left.”

He turned to Castiel expectantly. “You’re the one who’s been in Heaven the latest, what about Naomi?”

Silence. Dean glanced at Castiel and found his face pale, eyes cast downward. Dean immediately tensed. “Cas?”

Castiel swallowed hard but still said nothing. Gabriel leaned closer, face building up to that same righteous fury Dean had seen at his safe house in Norway. “Castiel,” Gabriel said, adding an edge to the name but also seeming to slur the middle syllable. _Enochian_ , some part of him recognized. _He’s saying Cas’s name with an Enochian accent._

Whatever it was, it seemed to bolster Castiel. “Naomi…she was the one who did the reeducations. I remember that now.”

Dean froze. “She would always be…so matter of fact about it,” Castiel continued, voice so soft it was almost hard to hear him. “Not really commanding, but insistent in a calm manner that this had to be done. And I’d always remember everything just as the needle-“

He swallowed again and lost more color in his face. This time, Gabriel didn’t press him for more information, just rested a hand on his elbow. Gabe’s eyes were doing that bright golden thing, though, even though he radiated outward calm.

Dean was having a harder time of that. Thinking of Castiel under Naomi’s hand, doing what had to be done but suddenly remembering everything the instant he was put under a torture device…

He remembered thinking how humanity was so lost, killing in the name of Father, but the angels were torturing and “reeducating” in the name of Father too. Following the rules. Whose rules?

Between Castiel and Gabriel, Dean was having a hard time keeping his temper in check. Never mind Sam, who _always_ caused blood to boil whenever he was hurt or in trouble. Which was pretty much every day ending in Y.

He grabbed hold of Castiel’s shoulder and kept his grip tight. Castiel gave him and Gabriel a grateful smile that faltered briefly. Still, at least he knew. _We’re here._

“I’d say Naomi’s out, then,” Bobby said. He sounded just as sickened as the rest of them felt. “Saw a lot of crappy things done when I was overseas in the military but I guess, I don’t know. Figured that Heaven would’ve been better than that.”

“No,” Gabriel said darkly. “Just better at implementing it. Dad above, what the hell is going on up there?”

“I don’t know, but we’re not gonna get it figured out anytime soon,” Dean said. “We can’t exactly storm Heaven demanding answers. We work our problems here so we can get our Graces back and then we can figure out what’s going on upstairs.”

“Would be nice to have some extra fire power on our side, though. You trust this Anna and Anael?”

“Anna I know,” Dean said. “We kept her from becoming demon and angel chowder several months ago.” The memory of where he’d kept her, in his back seat, came to mind, and his cheeks felt warm.

“Oh wow,” Gabriel said, and Dean’s face went red for a whole different reason. “Oh, wow, no, _no_ , think about something else Dean-o, that is some serious triple-X rated memory you’ve got going on.”

That didn’t make it any easier to think about something else. “Stay out of my head,” he snapped, cheeks burning.

Bobby gave him an incredulous stare. “You had sex with an _angel_?”

“Can we get back on target?” Dean asked, sounding strangled even to his ears. Gabriel chortled, the bastard, and even Castiel’s lips turned up. Thank god Sam wasn’t in on this.

Speaking of his little brother… He glanced back again and found Sam still out for the count, face smoothed of any and all lines. At least for now he was actually resting. Dean wasn’t expecting it to last all that much longer, though. And he had to stop turning around to look at Sam, but the memory of them arriving at Bobby’s, only to find blood pouring from both of Sam’s suddenly ghost-white face, was still pretty forefront on his mind.

“Anael wasn’t a bad sort, from what I remember,” Gabriel said, deciding to apparently offer mercy and switch the conversation back. “But the less we can call in, the better. I’ve run into enough, uh, let’s just say ‘problems’ with the Host.”

The way he said it teased at Dean’s memory, and it took him a moment to place it: his dream, right before they’d Fallen. “Yeah, let’s talk about this whole, ‘We’ve got a problem’ thing you mentioned just before we Fell,” Dean said. That he wanted more details about.

“I thought you’d dreamed about a conversation with Raphael in the Crusades?” Gabriel asked. “You two Falling happened way later.”

“I had both,” Dean said, “and you’re ignoring the subject.”

Gabriel pursed his lips. “It didn’t even involve the Host, actually. Different set of problems. It was a quick skirmish involving a few demons who knew me as Loki and didn’t like that I was anywhere near the Cage. Apparently Michael could slip down easy enough, but the instant I showed up, we had problems. They were on my tail, and I had other things to do.”

“Did they hurt you?” Castiel asked seriously.

“Nah, not too bad,” Gabriel said with a soft smile. “Nothing I couldn’t heal from.”

“So they knew something was going on,” Dean said, and half a minute later, horror slid into every part of his being. “Did they report back that the Cage was empty?”

Gabriel gave a very nasty looking grin. “Hard to do that when you’re dead. They didn’t leak anything back, trust me.”

Well, at least there was that much. “Good to know. Now what the hell do we do?” Bobby asked.

Sam slept on. Dean took a breath and let it out slowly. “All right Cas: what’s the plan with the Mark?”

The books in Bobby’s library were taunting him. Not a single one had the information he needed.

With a sigh he tossed the latest one aside and reached for the next. “Anything?” he asked the others. Maybe they’d found something worthwhile.

No answer. Frowning, he glanced up and realized he was alone. When had that happened? He called for his brother, any of them, but he was alone.

Unease began to seep into his being, but he slowly stood and forced himself to start searching. The living room was completely empty of anyone except him, and the same for the kitchen. “Hello?” he hollered. His voice echoed back at him.

He could’ve sworn they were all there. Had they been taken? Why hadn’t he noticed?

The air felt cooler than it had a moment ago, and he froze. Spirit. Here, in Bobby’s house? But there was no denying the chill that had hit him. He glanced at the thermostat and saw that the air conditioner was on. Part of the problem, he was sure, but even the A/C wouldn’t account for the frosty edge to the air. He absently set it to heat and began to stalk his way towards the upstairs, one foot carefully placed in front of the other. If the others were in trouble, he needed all of his stealth to get to them safely.

A voice called his name, and his shoulders sagged briefly with relief. He’d know that voice anywhere. “Yeah?” he called back.

Nothing. Then his name, called a little more urgently. He shivered and headed towards where he’d heard his brother.

Downstairs. In the panic room.

He swallowed hard. But the voice called again, even more urgently, and he couldn’t ignore that. “Hang on!” he called and made himself hurry down the stairs. He grabbed a gun from a nearby bench as he did so and raised it, aiming it at the panic room door. The door that was open, leading into a room that was pitch-black dark.

His brother was closer now, he could hear him inside the panic room. Slowly he moved forward, gun still aimed high. Something was wrong. Something wasn’t right. No code word to warn him that something was amiss, nothing. Just the deep-seated feeling that something was off.

He quietly called his brother’s name again as he stared into the panic room. When he got no response, he stepped into the room. The darkness was impossible to see in, and he reached back for the light switch, gun still held up.

The door slammed shut with a heavy clang. He turned and ran for the door, except it was gone. It was just him in the darkness and the cold that wouldn’t leave him.

He kept running, knowing the door was there somewhere, anywhere, he just had to find it-

Suddenly he ran into something hard, head-first, and he staggered back into the black, head exploding in absolute agony. He could taste blood in his mouth, in his nose, and his head wouldn’t stop aching. He shut his eyes against the pain, trying to will it away, trying to focus, trying not to choke on the nauseating taste of blood-

Multiple hands landed on him and he jerked, trying to get himself free. Voices filtered in and through the pain, he managed to understand them.

“Hey, you’re all right, Samshine.”

“Easy, son. You’re safe.”

“Deep breaths, Sammy. C’mon, open those eyes for me, little brother.”

Slowly he opened his eyes. It wasn’t dark anymore but fairly bright, enough that his eyes burned. “Casanova, get the lights,” he heard Gabriel say, and the blinds all flipped shut and the curtains all fell at once.

“Casanova?” Bobby asked. “You gave Castiel the nickname of Casanova? And not Dean?”

“Hey, Casanova started off as a virgin too. He’s with me now, give him time.”

“Just because I choose to not engage in carnal acts or knowledge doesn’t mean I’m not worldly.”

“Yeah, but that whole sentence just proved otherwise.”

The banter gave Sam some background white noise as he took in his surroundings. Bobby’s living room, the smell of books and coffee a comfort. Stretched out on the sofa, the only thing capable of holding all of him even though his legs were bent as per usual. Castiel hovering off to the side, scowling at Gabriel, who had a hand on one of Sam’s legs. Bobby leaning against the back of the sofa and watching Sam with obvious worry in his eyes, which Sam honestly wasn’t used to seeing.

And right where Sam expected him to be: Dean, crouched beside the sofa near his head, hand resting on his shoulder. Dean’s blatant concern also surprised him, and then his stomach sank as he realized _why_ Dean probably looked that freaked. “How bad?” he croaked.

Dean winced. “Not great,” he admitted. “You scared the crap out of us. Gabriel thinks you overdid it a little on the powers.”

_If a little is Titanic-sized, sure,_ Sam couldn’t help but think, and Gabriel gave a surprised snort of laughter.

“Well, at least your dry humor’s intact. You can’t be too bad off if you can still snark with the best of ‘em.”

The instant he tried to rise, though, all attempts of levity fled from Gabriel’s face, and he moved his hand to Sam’s chest at the same time Dean tightened his grip. “Yeah, let’s not do that yet, Samshine,” Gabriel said gently. The lack of effort it took them to keep Sam on the couch told him just how weak he was.

He tried to clear his throat but it felt tight and sore, as if someone had sandpapered through it. _How long?_ he thought instead.

“We arrived just shy of six in the morning,” Castiel told him. “It’s now three in the afternoon.”

_If I got sleep, how come I feel like such crap?_

“Because your body wasn’t really resting, kiddo. It was trying to recover. You didn’t sleep, you passed out. And extraordinarily at that, may I add,” Gabriel said. “So yeah, you’re gonna feel like crap for a while. Get used to it.”

That’s what he’d been afraid of. “Can we get you anything?” Castiel asked. “Something to eat?”

The thought of food made his stomach lurch. He must’ve looked as green as he felt because Dean immediately glanced up at Bobby. Bobby gave a nod. “Tea it is. C’mon Feathers, you can come help.”

Surprisingly, Gabriel went with them, leaving him alone with Dean. Dean seemed to search his face for something, and Sam couldn’t find it in him to try and convey any sort of strength. Weak and worn out, it was all he could do to meet Dean’s gaze.

“You were having a Cage dream, weren’t you,” Dean said. It wasn’t a question.

Sam shook his head, and Dean looked surprised. “Think it would’ve been,” Sam whispered. “Was cold and scared. Then m’head started hurting.”

“Well, that’s great. Your psychic powers caused enough pain to break you out of a Cage nightmare. Awesome.”

The anger in Dean’s voice made Sam want to hide. “Didn’t have a choice,” Sam breathed. “M’sorry.”

Dean blinked, then gave a humorless snort. “I’m not mad at you about the powers, Sammy. And I’ll say it as many times as I have to. I’m mad that you keep getting hurt. I’m mad about the whole damn Cage and the Mark which, by the way, they told me about. Binding the Mark has Gabe’s seal of approval so we’re going to give it a shot. But the other options they had-“

He stopped and swallowed hard, and Sam stared, stunned, as Dean’s eyes began to shine. “I’m not losing you,” he said roughly. “I’m, I’m not. You’re not going anywhere near that Cage. So I’m all on board with blowing it to kingdom come first. There’s no other option, you hear me?”

He did. Dean couldn’t have said, _I love you,_ any louder or clearer. Sam reached out with a shaking limb and caught hold of Dean’s free hand. He squeezed as hard as he could and got a tight squeeze back.

“Just rest,” Dean said quietly. “I’m not going anywhere, little brother.”

Sam closed his eyes and didn’t dream again.

The next few days went quietly, in comparison to the explosion of events they’d had leading up to dealing with the Horsemen. Both Dean and Gabriel seemed driven to find anything to do with the Cage, though Dean’s attention was focused more on blowing up huge divine creations. Gabriel brought in books from libraries all around the globe as well as first editions of books long gone. “Time travel’s not that difficult, but I have to put them back, so read fast. Last thing I need to do is borrow a book at the wrong time and topple Rome or something. And yes, Singer, make a list of texts and I’ll see what I can do.”

Sam himself stayed close to the sofa, resting with a cool cloth over his burning eyes and on his aching forehead for the most part, when Dean or Gabriel wasn’t helping him sit up and eat or move to where he needed to go. The eye cloth helped immensely but the head cloth did almost nothing. Still, it was a kind gesture and Sam wasn’t going to turn that away, even though his head wouldn’t stop throbbing.

By day four, however, he could stand for longer periods of time and could read without wincing in pain. Dean let up on most of the mother hen routine, but only really when Gabriel took over. Sam was being babysat and he knew it, but for once, the idea didn’t rankle him. He knew that he’d terrified them all when he’d taken a tumble after overdoing the powers. As annoying as it was to have a chaperone on a regular basis, it was something he could put up with.

By day five, Gabriel decided he was healed up enough to try and make his brain melt again. He dragged Sam outside and pointed him at a barrel loaded with glass bottles, then told him to go wild. It took a bit for Sam to realize that Gabriel meant for him to use his powers. Surprisingly, when he began to try, Gabriel started to speak in a soft tone, giving him pointers, offering suggestions. By the end of the day his head ached, but he’d moved three bottles on his own, so points for effort. Especially since he’d dropped all three near the end out of sheer exhaustion, sending glass pieces all over the ground.

But the best part of it all was that Dean really didn’t care about the powers. He wasn’t scared, he wasn’t angry, he just…was. He’d come out and offer tips, tease a little, and still just be…Dean. His big brother, his best friend.

When Dean kept telling him, “I don’t care, Sammy,” Sam could honestly say he was starting to believe him.

Almost a week from when they’d met up with Death, Gabriel announced it was time to put the next part of their plan in motion. “Time to visit Cain,” he said one morning over breakfast. He speared another chocolate-chip pancake and shoved it in his mouth. “The sooner we deal with him, the better.”

“You think you can bind him?” Sam asked.

“Not yet. I need some of his DNA so saliva, hair, blood. Any and all of the above are great. Then I can start doing the spell.”

Dean didn’t look thrilled. “You don’t want him to know what we’re doing,” he summed up succinctly.

Gabriel shook his head. “The less he knows, the better it’ll be for everyone. Trust me. He’s not going to be happy about us doing this.”

If Gabriel said it was for the best, then Sam was inclined to agree with him. He hadn’t steered them wrong yet.

“We’ll have to be careful, though,” Gabriel continued. He nodded at Sam. “I have absolutely no clue what’ll happen if I put you and Cain in the same room together. You might do nothing but stare at each other. Or the Mark could sense who it is and try and get to you.”

Yeah, no. Not a good idea. “And Sam’s still recovering,” Dean said. “So we’ll be careful to keep Sam away from Cain.”

“Sam is right here,” Sam pointed out. Not that that would matter to Dean. “And if the Mark can affect me from just getting near it, I’m not sure it’s a good idea for me to go at all.”

“Exactly what I was thinking. I think it’s better if we stay here,” Castiel said.

Dean sat up straighter “Wait a minute-“

“If the Mark’s got any chance of affecting me, it could resonate with the remnant of the Cage inside of me,” Sam explained. “I think Cas is right: we need to stay here. It’ll give me time to rest up more. Bobby and I will keep digging, and you, Gabriel, and Cas can go.”

“I have other plans,” Castiel explained. “I’d like to resume my search for God. If he’s the only one who can break this connection Lucifer has to the Cage, then I need to find him as soon as possible. Your amulet, for example, is a relic and can be used as a divine conduit to God.“

Sam knew exactly where he was going with it, and knew the answer before he even asked. Dean shook his head and put his hand over the amulet. “Nope, get your own. This one’s mine. And I’m not parting with it.”

It never failed to warm something inside of Sam to see the amulet still so treasured by his brother. That little token of love, of brotherhood from that Christmas, still held true. It was that Christmas when everything had changed for Sam: monsters were real and they were hunters.

But the thing that had changed the most was that Dean had stepped up and stepped into an even greater role in his life. It was as if Dean had realized how much Sam needed him, as a brother, as an almost parent, as a best friend. They’d become closer than ever, and Sam knew that the amulet had played a role in that.

He couldn’t even begin to imagine Dean without it.

“There’s other things you can use,” Gabriel told him. “Not that Dad’s going to answer any of them.”

Castiel didn’t seem phased in the slightest. “I think that it’s my best avenue at this point. I’ll find another relic, then, and call out to God. If anyone can fix this, it’s him.”

Sam privately thought there wasn’t much good to be had chasing down the lead, but he knew better than anyone the need to do something right, to believe in something good and divine. With Heaven falling apart and Hell running everywhere, there _had_ to be something good left.

Thinking of Hell let Sam give voice to one last, nagging doubt. “What about the demons? We still don’t know why they were after Gabriel.”

“I’ll keep out of easily warded places,” Castiel said. “And I’ll call out if I need help.”

“What about Zachariah?” Dean asked. “What happens when he shows up? And it’s not a matter of ‘if’ it’s just ‘when’. You know that.”

Castiel’s eyes gleamed with Grace, and for the first time ever, he gave a dangerous smirk that he’d clearly learned from Gabriel. “I’m hoping he will,” he said darkly. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Okay, easy there, Rambo,” Gabriel said. “As much as we’d all like to pick his feathers out, we need answers. So if he follows you, call out to me and we’ll get there in a hot second. Promise me, kiddo.”

The smirk faded to a fond smile. “I promise. Besides, I wouldn’t dare deprive you of the fun of interrogating him.”

“Damn straight,” Dean said firmly. Sam’s lips turned up.

With one last smile, Castiel disappeared with a flutter of wings. Gabriel sighed and turned to Dean. “If we’re going…”

“Yeah, I know.” Still, Dean paused and glanced at Sam as he stood. “You guys’ll be all right?” he asked.

“We’ll be great,” Bobby said. “Plenty of wards and lots of books to still dig through. And I’ll make sure the idjit doesn’t do somethin’ stupid like overtax himself. He’ll rest and read and be just fine.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Y’know, I _can_ handle myself.”

“You can,” Dean agreed. “But we’d all feel a hell of a lot better if you were able to get back to a hundred percent. And be _safe_.”

He couldn’t fault them for wanting that. If he was being honest, he _was_ still tired. Sitting this one out for a little bit sounded pretty good. He didn’t exactly have a headache anymore, but the right amount of noise would set it off. Sitting down with a book and a cup of tea wounded awesome.

“Yeah,” Gabriel said with a grin. “That’s sort of what we figured.”

“Tea and a book?” Dean said knowingly.

“Yup.”

“Jerks,” Sam muttered.

The grin he got from Dean was all fondness. “Bitch.”

Idiots, the both of them. But god, Sam wouldn't change a single thing about them. They were his brothers, his family. And he wasn't going to lose what he'd finally found again.

Before they could take off, Sam caught them both in an embrace. “Be careful,” he murmured. “Cas isn’t the only one taking a risk.”

“We’ll keep an eye out,” Dean promised. “Call us if you need us.”

“I’ll hear,” Gabriel promised. He grabbed Dean’s arm and they disappeared.

He stared at where they’d been, then let out a long and deep sigh. “C’mon,” Bobby said. “Let’s get some hot water goin’. Tea sounds good to me too.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cain at last. He's such an intriguing character to me, calm and patient and a gentleman but also very much NOT. I leaned towards the NOT. Please note that I'm abusing canon all over the place, this is no exception.

When they landed, Dean had expected something dark and bleak, something cloudy or something that felt wrong. Alaska, maybe. Or the middle of an inner-city gangland.

Not…fields and flowers and the pinkening skies of a summer afternoon.

“The hell?”

“Missouri,” Gabriel explained. “He settled down a hundred plus years ago and never really left. Word traveled through the angel radio network where he was, but mostly just a blip in the radar, you know? ‘Hey, so and so won the chess tournament again, and oh yeah, Cain’s got a new address, update your contacts.’ Most people didn’t pay attention to it but I did. Anything to do with the First Knight of Hell catches my attention.”

Wait. Wait wait _wait_. “Back up, repeat that,” Dean said. “Knight of Hell?”

“Yeah. You as Michael were probably familiar with all of them, but I’m sure while you were in the Pit you heard about the rest of them. There were Knights and there were Princes. Asmodeus, Abaddon, Dagon, Ramiel, Azazel.”

“Alistair,” Dean said softly. He swallowed at the memory of the demon. There hadn’t been a lot of times before when he’d been thankful for Sam’s powers, but that night had been one of them. He didn’t think he’d ever told Sam that. He’d saved Dean’s life that night in more ways than one: badass demon killer one minute, then gentle nursemaid the next. He didn’t remember a lot about that night – he tried really hard to block out the worst of Alistair, which was pretty much all of it – but he did remember Sam carefully getting him out and to the hospital.

Gabriel winced but nodded. “Yeah. Well, Cain would be the first of the bunch. He sort of started the order.”

“So…bad?” Dean surmised.

The archangel narrowed his gaze. “Yeah. Like how an ostrich is a bird with wings. Little understated there. There was a time that Cain was considered the worst of the worst. Angels, demons, humans all steered clear.”

“Why am I just hearing about this now?” Dean exclaimed. Seriously, this wasn’t something Gabriel could’ve deemed important eons ago? “I don’t have anything on me except my Colt and the knife! For all we know, he sent those demons after you!”

“One, neither of which will probably work on him,” Gabriel said, then turned thoughtful. “Though I’d love to see what effect the Colt has. Two, he’s not exactly on speaking terms with other demons. He wouldn’t have sent them.”

“What about Crowley?” Dean asked. “Think he would’ve sent them?”

Gabriel snorted. “Uh, no. Trust me. I mean, he could’ve, but it’s not his style. No, someone else did it, and we’ll figure it out. Just not right now. At any rate, killing Cain isn’t the key here, right? I just need some DNA so I can do the spell. And you’re safe with me. He’s good, but he’s not good enough to detect an archangel hiding behind a demi-god. He’ll sense the angel and that’ll be that. I’ll get you back to the others in one piece.”

“And you didn’t tell me any of this why?”

“Oh please. As if Sam would’ve let us go anywhere near Cain if he’d known.”

True enough. Still, a little forewarning was always appreciated.

“Meh, fair enough. Next time I bring you to the guy who invented murder, I’ll make a note of it.”

“I appreciate it.”

Gabriel took off across the field, leaving Dean no choice but to follow, albeit with lots of grumbling.

Not a quarter of a mile later, they came across a small house that looked age-worn but still cozy. Flowers bloomed everywhere, and in the midst of a large garden off to the side stood a few tall beehives. Next to one of them was an older man with trimmed hair and a tidy beard. He had a full beekeeper smock on, and the brim of the hat shielded his eyes from sight. He glanced up as they came closer and lifted the veil on the hat. “Can I help you?” he asked.

“Hi Cain,” Gabriel said, all false cheer. “Hope you don’t mind us dropping in.”

Cain peered at him for a moment before he raised his eyebrows in surprise. “An angel? It’s been a while since I’ve had the company of an angel. I’m pleased to see you. And this is…?” he asked, nodding towards Dean.

Gabriel completely ignored him and introduced him to Dean instead. “This is Cain,” he said. “First Knight of Hell, Father of Murder.”

“I prefer ‘beekeeper’ these days, little angel,” Cain said. He pulled his hat off and raised an eyebrow as if amused as Gabriel bristled at the title. “It’s just me and the bees. Well, the bees and now an angel. And a hunter if I’m not mistaken.”

Dean froze. “Dean Winchester, I presume,” he said, and held out his hand. Dean cautiously took it and found Cain’s grip friendly yet firm. “It’s an honor,” Cain continued. “I know that may sound odd coming from me, but your work is commendable.”

“You’re good with me killing demons,” Dean said, raising an eyebrow. “Aren’t _you_ a demon?”

“Technically, yes. But I retired a long time ago.” Pain flitted across his face. “I made a promise,” he said quietly. “And one I intend to keep.”

This wasn’t at all who Dean had expected after Gabriel’s warnings and the story of Cain and Abel. This man was off the grid, keeping himself from people, tending to _bees_. Killer extraordinaire he wasn’t. Or at least, he didn’t look like one.

Gabriel crossed his arms. “Where’s the Mark?” he asked bluntly.

Cain hesitated, then sighed. “I should’ve known,” he said ruefully. “Spot inspection, I suppose. It’s better than I’d hoped when I first saw you. I was afraid you’d come to ask for my help.”

Wait. “And that’s a bad thing?” Dean asked.

Cain glanced around and then jerked his head back towards the modest house. “Let’s take this inside, shall we? The last thing I want is to speak outside of wards. It’s safer all around.”

Dean couldn’t argue that. Gabriel finally gave a curt nod and they followed him in.

Inside, the house was an interesting mix-match of antiques that…actually, probably hadn’t been antiques at one point. Modern appliances mixed in with appliances Dean had only seen in the junk pile at Bobby’s house, and then there were things that predated the appliances. Not at all what he’d expected. None of this was.

There were no pictures, no real trinkets, save for one portrait on the mantle. A beautiful dark-haired woman gave a hint of a smile in the black and white photo. It was clearly a prized possession.

“My wife,” Cain said, noting his gaze. “Colette. She’s been gone some one hundred and fifty years now.” He smiled at the portrait with clear fondness. “I vowed to her that I would never pick up the blade again, that I would forsake the bloodshed. And that’s why I won’t help, Dean. I won’t break my vow.”

“That and you don’t want to wake up the Mark,” Gabriel said. “That tends to put a damper on the beekeeping lifestyle.”

“No one wants the Mark woken up,” Cain said darkly. “The less I get involved, the better for everyone.”

“Yeah, well, as long as it isn’t coming off, we’re all good,” Dean said. “And it sounds like we’re in agreement with that.”

Cain said nothing but headed for a cabinet, pulling out three dainty tea cups. “We’re not staying long,” Gabriel said. “We just wanted-“

“I know what you wanted,” Cain said. He turned the burner on at the stove and poured water into it from the kitchen sink. Only once he’d set an old metal tea kettle on top of the stove did he speak again. “You wanted to see if I still had it since Lucifer is free of his Cage. You wanted to make sure it hadn’t jumped ship and headed back to its original owner.”

He glanced back at Dean then. “Your little brother, Sam, right?” he asked. Dean stared. “I know you’re both vessels. And it comes as no surprise that your little brother is his vessel. The little brother to Michael’s big brother.” He gave a small smile but it was bitter at best. “I was a big brother, too. I know something about that.”

That was about all Dean could stomach. “You don’t know anything about being a big brother,” he snapped. Cain glanced at him, surprised at his outburst. “You murdered your little brother.”

“You don’t know anything about that,” Cain said, a warning in his voice. “And yes, you and I have a lot in common. I heard about your tutelage under Alistair. Alistair was an ugly one. The fact that you’re still standing here is nothing short of impressive.”

For a minute, Dean was suddenly so sure that he was going to be sick that he put a hand to his stomach. Gabriel stepped in front of him, and Dean could’ve sworn he heard the fluttering of wings. “And who gave Alistair all of his ideas?” Gabriel pointed out, furious. “Don’t stand and act all mighty. You were the best at being the worst for years, Cain. Just because you’ve decided to step back and play little house on the prairie doesn’t change the fact that you’re a dangerous son of a bitch and should be kept on a leash. Especially with that Mark.”

Cain scowled for the first time since Dean had met him. He pulled up his sleeve and there, on his arm, was an old looking scar. Except even as Dean watched, it seemed to glow red. “This Mark?” he asked. “The Mark that was thrust on me, the one I’ve been cursed with?”

“Cursed with?” Gabriel sputtered. “How about more like _earned_. The only thing I regret is how many you slaughtered with it.”

“Then I should never have gotten it in the first place! It’s not even mine!” Cain cried. “You gave me this Mark and it doesn’t belong to me, I didn’t deserve it-“

“Deserve it?” Gabriel spat. “You killed your _brother_ because you got jealous-“

“Jealous?” Cain sputtered out a bitter laugh. “I wasn’t _jealous_. Abel was being influenced by Lucifer, and I made a deal for him to save his soul.”

Dean stiffened. Beside him, Gabriel went completely still. “They didn’t tell you that, little angel, did they,” Cain said. “A darkness began to fill his heart and I watched as I lost my little brother to powers beyond his control. Do you know what that’s like? I was desperate. I told Lucifer to leave him alone, that I would do anything, if only Abel would be free of the darkness surrounding him. Lucifer agreed: Abel would go to Heaven, and I would go to Hell in his stead.

“But he made me do it, first.” He shook his head. “I had to be the one to kill Abel. And I did.”

Ice coated the bottom of Dean’s stomach. Lucifer hadn’t been rosy and full of sunshine when Father had sent him to the Cage, but this level of maliciousness didn’t seem right. It didn’t seem like him. Could he have really sunk to this level, pitted one brother against the other and forced Cain to kill his little brother?

His memory flashed back to Lucifer taking wing with him, eyes bright and filled with joy, Lucifer patiently mentoring the youngest of fledglings. Lucifer begging Michael to help him, to stop him. _I’m afraid of what I’m capable of, Michael. Help me._

Sam flashed through his mind next, pained from using his powers and desperate for Dean to not abandon him. Sam in the chapel, pale and remorseful and waiting for Dean to strike the killing blow.

No. If there was one thing Dean had to believe in, it was his little brother. If he gave up on Sam now, if he didn’t stand with Lucifer, then what was the point?

Gabriel still looked hesitant, but Dean glared at Cain. “I don’t believe you.”

“And you would be the expert here because…?”

“Because Lucifer screwed up a lot because of the Mark, but if there’s one thing he holds sacred above all else, it’s brotherhood. And that hasn’t changed. Oh, and you’re still a demon,” he added, teeth bared in a dangerous grin. “And demons lie.”

For a moment, Cain stood stock still, eyes wide in surprise and what almost looked like hurt.

Then.

His eyes narrowed and his lips pulled back in a snarl. “What does Lucifer know about brotherhood? He was an undeserving little brother who got into something he didn’t understand either, got too powerful, too big for his britches. Abel was no different.”

_Bingo_. “I’d wager he knows more than you,” Dean said angrily. “You killed your little brother. I don’t care if he was drinking demon blood: you don’t abandon your brother. And you sure as _hell_ don’t kill him.”

Cain snorted in contempt. “I would’ve said you and I were alike, Dean Winchester. You’ve been to Hell the same as I, and you understand just how powerful the darkness can be. But it’s clear that we couldn’t be more different.”

“Yeah, not crying over that,” Dean said.

He got a look for that, but it faded to more of a consideration. “You need strength,” he said. “To hold off Heaven and Hell. Then you might be able to understand-“

Before Dean could even see what had happened, Cain reached for him, only for Gabriel’s hand to grab him by the wrist. “Touch him and I’ll show you what your insides look like on the outside,” Gabriel seethed. “And don’t tell me you don’t deserve that Mark. My only goal here is to ensure you get to keep it. Not pass it along to someone else.” He shoved Cain away, fury in his eyes.

Cain went still, and when he looked up, Dean saw for the first time the pure rage that the man possessed. Gone was the calm, peaceful keeper of the land he’d first met. In his stead was the man who Dean could easily believe had struck his sibling down, the first Knight of Hell and dangerous as could be.

“I will be free of it,” Cain said. “And you’ll find that I should never have had it at all.”

The kettle began to whistle. “Get out,” Cain told them. “And pray that Lucifer doesn’t take the Mark back. Because if he gets it? You’ll be praying that I’d kept it. What I did, what I was, it’s _nothing_ compared to the devastation Lucifer will wreak.”

He snapped his fingers and suddenly Gabriel and Dean were standing beside a lake. “Where the hell are we?” Dean asked, whipping his head around. “And how the hell could he _do_ that?”

“What part of ‘first Knight of Hell’ did you not understand?” Gabriel said. “And that actually went better than I’d expected. He only tried to give you the Mark once.”

“ _Better_? What did you expect?”

“A shit show,” Gabriel said. “We’re somewhere in the Ozarks, I think. He didn’t send us far. Just far enough to prove his point. Bastard.”

He paused and glanced at Dean. “You knew,” he said. “Somehow, you knew that he was spouting bull and that his line about Lucifer was crap.”

“I had to,” Dean said simply. “I know Sammy. And as screwed up as Sam got on the demon blood, he was still Sam. Still the guy trying to do the right thing. And that was Lucifer too. I remember enough to know that.”

He just wished he’d believed in Sam enough before Ruby had sunk her claws into him. What was done was done, though, and he could only move on. And that included proving to Sam that he believed in his little brother, that he didn’t think his little brother was a monster.

“Yeah, pretty sure you get some good big brother points for that,” Gabriel said with a grin. He shook himself and twitched his fingers. “Blech. I hate demon transportation. Ready to head back?”

“What do we tell them? That Cain’s a lying, massive douchebag? And we’re not really any closer to a solution?”

Gabriel smiled and raised up his right hand. A small group of hairs sat nestled in his palm, along with what looked like a tiny section of skin. “I got his wrist when he tried for you,” he explained. “Mostly hairs. Some flesh. Perfect DNA for our spell. And I didn’t go anywhere near full archangel on his ass. We’ve got the Mark practically locked down.”

Well, that solved part of their problem at least. “Now to deal with the Cage,” Dean said.

Gabriel scowled at him. “Don’t ruin my good mood, that’s Sam-a-lam’s job. And he’s pretty good at it, too.”

“He’s been bursting my balloon since I can remember,” Dean said, lips quirked up into a fond grin. Gabriel just rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers.

Even before they landed in Bobby’s living room, the feeling of _wrong wrong WRONG_ pervaded every fiber of Dean’s being. Then his primary senses caught up and he stared, stunned into silence.

The living room looked like a tornado had blown through it. Books rested haphazardly from every platform available, though most filled the floor. Furniture was spun upside down and off to the side, and glass from the cabinets lay in shattered pieces on the floor. There were dents in the wall, dents that looked human shaped.

The entire house stood, silent as a grave.

Gabriel managed to find his voice first. “I can’t feel the wards,” he said faintly. “They’re, they’re gone, Michael, they’re gone-“

“Sammy!” Dean yelled, and finally his legs worked. He stumbled on the first two steps as he rounded the corner for the kitchen. The table was upended and chairs were scattered everywhere. Broken bottles and dishware made a crunching sound beneath his boots.

No Sam. No Bobby either.

“Dean,” Gabriel said, and Dean spun around to where Gabriel was looking. The front door barely hung on its hinges.

He took off, shoving the door completely off its hinges and sending it slamming to the porch, and raced outside. The grounds were their usual mess, but through the darkness of evening falling, he could still see the dirt near the porch which had suspicious deep grooves in it, as if someone had stood their ground. “Sam!” he shouted again. “ _Sammy!”_

Nothing but silence met his ears. He was about to wander deeper into the yard, almost hoping he’d find his injured brother holed up somewhere, but then his eyes caught sight of something dark and shiny in the dirt.

With a sickening feeling in his gut, Dean knelt and touched the dark spots. He knew without even pulling his hand away what it was.

Blood. Sam’s blood. They’d taken his little brother, they had Lucifer, Sammy, _Sammy-_

“I found Bobby,” Gabriel said, hurrying up from behind him. “He’ll be all right, I’ve got him healed. He said it was the same asswipe he blew to kingdom come that was with Pestilence, and they were after-Dean?”

He knew who they were after. And he knew _who_ had come searching for his little brother. Zachariah had Sam. Zachariah had _Lucifer_ and if he figured that out-

Oh god. Oh god they would kill him, and they could because he was defenseless, he was human. They were going to torture Luce, they would hurt Sammy, and not now, not when he’d just gotten his little brother back. Not when he was _this close_.

“Dean?”

“Where are they?” Dean shouted, whirling on him.

Gabriel stared. He knew without even asking what Dean meant. “Dean you can’t-“

“ _Where are the Graces_?”

They were out of time. It was now or never, and Dean had never felt more like Michael before. If they had Sam – if they had _Lucifer_ – then everything they’d worked so hard for would be for nothing. They’d throw him back in the Cage and this time, he’d never get out. They’d send it adrift towards the Empty and he’d never see his brother again. Or they’d kill him and leave him alone in the Empty forever.

Oh god they were going to kill Sammy. They’d take Luce and he’d lose his little brother forever.

“I haven’t done the spell yet, and even if I do it, we don’t even know if the Mark will stay on Cain!” Gabriel sputtered. “Michael, if you bring Lucifer back and that Mark is still active, then we _will_ have an apocalypse. You know, that thing we were sorta hoping to avoid? Never mind what it could do to Luce in terms of the Cage remnant-”

“We don’t save Lucifer, _I’ll_ start the damn thing,” Michael growled. “That’s my little brother they’re about to torture and kill. He’s _human_ , Gabe. We left him _human_.”

Gabriel pursed his lips. “No. We left him as Sam Winchester. And he can do this.”

It pulled him back from the brink of panic, but only just, and the part of him that was Dean Winchester was able to take back over. It had been so easy to slip into being Michael, but right now, he needed to be Dean. Because Dean was the one who knew just how capable Sam was, was the one that trusted Sam. If anyone could stand against some angry angels for a short duration, it was Sam. He felt the wrathful archangel slip back further to the background, humming. “Not for long,” Dean admitted. “Sam’s good, he’s the best. But they’ll break him. Especially if they use me or you against him.”

A new thought occurred to him and he hated giving it voice. “You…do know where the Graces are, right? Because I have no clue.”

“That was the point,” Gabriel said. He smirked, but it was clear that he was trying to regain his equilibrium. “You’re not supposed to know. And I can’t exactly take Sam to the tree to give him his Grace back, either. We can’t do one of you without taking the Grace of the other.”

Dean began to say something, then stopped. “What?” Gabriel finally asked. “I can’t stand that face you make. Seriously. Say it or don’t.”

Filing that particular thought away for a later time when he could use it to fully antagonize the angel, Dean pursed his lips but said, “Is there any way we can take the Grace to Sam?”

“We’re doin’ that? Now?”

Dean whipped his head around to where Bobby stood in the doorway. “You all right?” Dean asked sharply.

Bobby pursed his lips as he made his way down into the yard. “Wouldn’t have been, if it hadn’t been for Gabriel. Son of a bitch stabbed me in the back, cut _something_. I couldn’t walk. I was crawlin’ for the door after Sam took off runnin’ because they were clearly here for Sam. Castiel showed up at Sam’s prayer, but then he disappeared. I prayed to Castiel but I got no idea what they did with him.”

“They shot him off,” Gabriel said angrily, even as Dean tried to process the bombshell that they’d paralyzed Bobby, almost killed him. Gabriel’s eyes glowed bright before going back to normal. “Saw it on the wall inside. I am really sick and tired of that sigil. I need to find a counter measure for it. He’s alive, though. Just exhausted somewhere I’m sure.”

None of this was helping Dean find Sam. “Can you find Sam?” he said. “So we can take his Grace to him?”

“Not to be a raincloud at your picnic, Dean, but that don’t solve the bigger problem you got,” Bobby pointed out. “You give Sam back his Grace and make him full-on Lucifer, that Mark’s gonna shoot straight for him. And I ain’t even gonna touch the Cage business.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Dean shouted. He tightened his hands into fists. The urge to punch something was growing, and he desperately wanted it to be Zachariah’s face. “The Mark and the Cage can go fuck each other over, Sam won’t last forever under Zachariah and whoever the hell’s running Heaven at the moment. We need to get to him now.”

He turned to Gabriel to demand that they fly to the Graces _now_ , then stopped. Gabriel stood still, eyes wide. Then, slowly, his lips began to curl up. “That’s it,” he breathed.

Dean blinked. “What’s it?”

Gabriel’s grin grew to almost manic levels, and he let out a laugh that was bright and full of hysterical joy. “The answer we needed. Oh Dad above, I am going to _deck_ Death when I see him next. He always did believe in self-fulfilling prophecies and people figuring their shit out on their own, but seriously, I would’ve appreciated the lack of a heart attack-“

“Gabriel,” Dean said sharply. “ _What_?”

Gabriel’s golden eyes met his, and the relief in them almost outweighed the sheer delight. “I know how to deal with the Cage,” he said, and Dean froze. “Forever. Luce isn’t going back. Not now, not ever.”

“You know how to do it?” Bobby demanded.

“Yeah,” Gabriel said, nodding. “Yeah, I really think I do.”

Before Dean could even begin to ponder that, Gabriel cracked his fingers and rolled his head. “Graces first, though. Man, I’ve waited a long time for this. Singer, head back inside and stay in the panic room, we’ll be back.” To Dean he said, “Alright kid: guess we’re heading to Virginia, then. Hold on tight.”

In a whip of wind and wings they were gone.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for torture: not super descriptive but Sam does get battered a bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a National Park nerd. Let me preface with that. 
> 
> The Catalpa "Witness" trees at Chatham Manor are indeed real and still standing to this day. Whitman saw these trees while at the Manor when it was a field hospital during the Battle of Fredericksburg in the Civil War. He'd gone searching for his little brother, George Washington Whitman, after seeing a G.W.Whitman listed among the fallen and injured and, fearing the worst, raced down to Virginia. He found his little brother alive and well, and only injured across the face. Once he saw the sorry state of the soldiers, however, Walt stayed and traveled to various hospitals over the next few years, writing letters for soldiers and composing his "Memoranda".
> 
> Fredericksburg was my home town so I'm very familiar with the area and with the battlefield. And the idea of two trees, bound together through the years, having seen bloodshed and sharing a history about two brothers...
> 
> I couldn't resist.
> 
> You can find more information about the Catalpa trees here:
> 
> https://www.nps.gov/frsp/learn/historyculture/chathamcatalpas.htm
> 
> There is also some not-super-graphic torture in this chapter; no higher level of violence than anything else we've seen thus far in the fic, but Sam does get thrown around a bit. Zachariah's not happy. I promise to make it better.

It was completely dark when they landed outside. Dean looked around, eyes searching for any immediate danger, but Gabriel noted that he scanned the area ahead of him, not behind him, where Gabriel stood. Trusting Gabriel to have his back was such a Michael thing to do, and for a moment, it made his stomach swirl and his wings twitch.

And now, now he was actually going to have his big brother back. Both of them, in short order. And he was going to keep Luce out of the Cage, dammit all. It had to work. It _had_ to.

“Where are we?” Dean asked.

“Chatham Manor,” Gabriel said, and extended his arm to the old brick house behind them. The windows were dark, and the park rangers had ostensibly gone home for the night. It was just the manor, the crickets in the night, and the two trees by the brick wall.

Dean caught sight of the house at last and startled. “Whose house is this?” he asked.

“Technically, it belongs to the National Park Service. Civil War era national treasure, something, something. We’re not here for the house. We’re here for those.”

He’d thought it fitting, to rest their Graces in a catalpa tree. “Winged head” indeed. Probably had been Lucifer’s idea in the first place. He’d always been the poetic sort.

“Uh. Those are older than both of us combined,” Dean pointed out.

“Hey, you told me to hide them. I figured the best way to do that was to place them back in the past a bit. Even if anyone figured out what you two had done, they wouldn’t have gone looking in the 1840’s for a sapling.”

Sam would appreciate where Gabriel had placed them. Here they were, two trees woven together, surviving blood and war and invoking the loyalty of two brothers. He was pretty sure Sam was a Walt Whitman fan. Lucifer certainly would’ve been.

“Uh. Am I going to kill these trees if I take the Graces?”

“They’re already dying. The Graces inside are pretty much giving them extra life. No danger of anyone cutting them down: the National Park is pretty fond of their ‘Witness trees’. Still, I stop by every now and then to make sure they’re safe.”

He could feel the resonance inside of the trees. Each one gave a slightly different sound, but they sang in harmony. They always had, he thought wryly. The trees wound around each other, unable to let go of one another. Even as trees, their Graces hadn’t been able to separate.

Dean moved towards one as if in a trance. His fingers were outstretched towards the one on the left, and he seemed almost reverent. Gabriel frowned and looked closer. Nope, that was definitely Lucifer’s Grace, not Michael’s. “Uh, Dean-o, wrong-“

“Hey,” Dean said softly, and he brushed his hand alongside the tree. “I’m here. I’ve got you. Right here, little brother.”

Oh. This moment felt private, and Gabriel felt like an intruder, witnessing something he had no right seeing. He debated turning around, but then Dean moved away from Lucifer’s Grace towards the other tree. “They’re both here,” he said.

Gabriel nodded and stepped forward. He’d visited a few times over the years – how could he not? – and each time it just made his heart break and harden a little bit more. At least this time he had a purpose for being here, not just because he was so homesick and alone that he couldn’t take it anymore. He rested his hand on Lucifer’s tree and gently pried a part of the tree off. It came easily, and he winced. “They’re in every part of the tree,” he said. “Not sure what’ll happen without the Graces, but I’ll try and keep them going as best as I can.”

Dean took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “This is going to get crazy in a few seconds,” he said.

“It is,” Gabriel agreed. “I like crazy.”

Dean glanced back at him, and the smirk he gave was all Dean Winchester. “Yeah, I know. I kinda like that about you.” He reached out and slammed his hand against the tree.

Michael’s Grace suddenly sang out loud and proud, making the sound waves around them shimmer and tremble. Car alarms started going off and the lights from the surrounding houses began to flicker before going out. The earth rumbled beneath Gabriel’s feet.

It was nothing compared to the light show in front of him. Michael’s Grace was pouring out, unhidden and unfettered after all this time, and there was nothing but white. In the midst of the white, visible to only an angel, was the Grace of the First, the Prince, the Archangel of Protection and War. It was beautiful and terrifying and Gabriel had never felt so at home as he did in that moment. _Brother_ , his Grace cried, and in that moment, he felt the warmth of his older brother.

Finally. _Finally_.

Even as Michael’s Grace was freed, Lucifer’s came right behind it. For a split second, Gabriel feared it would take off for Sam, but then he realized just how foolish he’d been. Of course it wouldn’t leave. Michael was here. And Lucifer would never leave him.

If Michael’s light show had been incredible, then Lucifer’s was astounding. There was no way that their Graces couldn’t be seen from the heavens. But here was Lucifer, Father’s most loyal lieutenant, the Light-Bringer, Heylel, the Archangel of Conscience, and boy was he bringing the light. His song rose with Michael’s, chorused together in the most resplendent of harmonies, a song that left Gabriel’s vision blurring. They were together and they were free and they’d done the impossible.

Lucifer was freed. He was out of the Cage and he was _free_. And Dad help him, Gabriel would give his life before he saw him go back.

Their song lasted for eons, forever in harmony, and Gabriel’s own Grace tentatively rose to join them. Without hesitation Lucifer and Michael invited him, and Gabriel found himself in the embrace of his older brothers for the first time in millennia. _Yes_ , he told them. _Yes, I have waited for you._

_And we, you, little one. Our beloved baby brother, our Joy-Bringer. We’ve missed you._

Emotions flooded him, feelings that went beyond words. Joy and peace and gratitude buzzed in him and around him, and above it all, _love_. Love for Gabriel, love for each other. They were together again.

An eon later, or perhaps it was just minutes, and their song sang its final notes. Gabriel let his Grace return back to its vessel and watched the light disappear. The night fell silent and dark.

The only thing that Gabriel could see was Dean Winchester, standing with a blue ball of Grace cradled gently between his hands. He was gazing at it and running his fingers over it as if he were trying to soothe it. “Easy,” he murmured. “Easy, _Heylel._ I’m here. We’re almost there.”

Gabriel shifted where he stood, not sure of what to do now that the song was over. Dean glanced up at him, and in his eyes was the flare of Grace, a brighter green than any emerald. “…Michael?” Gabriel asked hesitantly.

“Yes,” Dean said, _Michael_ said, and this was truly, finally, his oldest brother before him. The smile he gave was all Michael, and Gabriel found his eyes flooding for the second time that night. “You did it, Gabriel. You kept us safe.”

“I didn’t have another option,” Gabriel told him. “I couldn’t let anything happen to you two.”

“You did have another option; you could’ve easily let us go. But you didn’t.” Michael smiled warmly, and it echoed through his Grace. Warmth and love for Gabriel.

Lucifer’s Grace whispered in his hands, and Michael’s smile dimmed. “We’re missing someone,” he said. “I think it’s time, Gabriel.”

“I can’t guarantee with the ritual that the Mark-“

“We’re out of time. We’ll have to take that chance.”

“And kill Sam doing it?” Gabriel asked carefully.

Michael’s face twisted in pain, and then suddenly it was all Dean, that same protective rage Gabriel had seen a million times before blossoming across his face. “Not gonna happen. Sammy can do this. Lucifer can do this. They have to. And you have a plan, remember?”

Lucifer’s Grace flared again, as if promising, and Dean’s lips turned up briefly. He waved his hand and a small vial appeared. Lucifer’s Grace slid inside, somehow fitting in the glass, and Dean put the stopper on top. “Ready?” he asked.

Gabriel nodded slowly, enough that Dean paused. “Gabriel?” he asked, worry in his eyes. Worry for Gabriel. It was almost too much to take in, and where were his defenses, his Loki persona and years of bitterness, when he needed them?

A hand fell on his shoulder, and it wasn’t until Michael brushed a thumb under his eyes that he realized he was crying. “Little one,” Michael murmured, and Gabriel buried himself in his brother’s embrace. Michael held on as if there wasn’t anything he’d rather be doing. Against Gabriel’s back was the glass of Lucifer’s Grace, like a cool hand holding him, like Lucifer was really there with him, trying to comfort him as best he could.

And suddenly all Gabriel wanted was to be wrapped in the embrace of both of his brothers.

He pulled back, determination surging through him. No, they weren’t losing Sam, not today, not ever. Lucifer would be made whole, the Cage remnant would go back to where it needed to be, and the Mark would stay with Cain. His plan _had_ to work, dammit.

Dean, Michael, it didn’t matter, because Gabriel finally understood that they were one and the same. They always had been. “Ready?” his oldest brother asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Let’s go get our rescue on.” He felt rejuvenated, and for the first time in so long, he felt like Gabriel again: full of boundless energy, wings twitching with the urge to fly as fast as he could, positive attitude so positive it was almost disgusting. He’d _missed_ this.

His brother gave a sheepish grin. “I haven’t flown in a long time. You might have to help me with my wings.”

“Hey, that’s what I’m here for.” Gabriel gave a grin that felt strong and real. “I’m the guy who keeps you safe.”

They disappeared in a gust of wings.

“You know, I’ve had more successful kidnappings than this. Including one by redneck hillbillies. This is sort of…boring.”

“I’ll give you boring here in a minute,” Zachariah snapped at him. Sam just rolled his eyes. “Roll your eyes like that at me again, worm, and I’ll yank them out of your pretty dull head. Got it?”

Probably best to not antagonize the angel. Still, it gave Sam something to do besides worry about Dean and Gabriel. He wasn’t thinking about Castiel or Bobby. Especially Bobby. He couldn’t.

_Angel behind Bobby before he can see it and a blade straight through the spine. Bobby howls and crumples to the ground, silent and lifeless, blood spilling out of the wound on his back._

He shut his eyes tight. Bobby was dead and Dean and Gabriel were nowhere to be found.

_Gabriel, please,_ Sam prayed. _I’m somewhere near Detroit, I think, abandoned building near a highway. Gabriel!_

There was no answer. Sam desperately tried to keep himself calm and tried to use his powers again on the chains wrapped so tight around his hands he could barely feel them. Nothing.

How they’d gotten in, he had no idea. The wards should’ve kept them out, but instead there’d suddenly been a group of angels in the middle of Bobby’s room. Zachariah had pointed to Sam with a gleam in his eyes, and before Sam had gotten to his feet, Bobby had darted forward to block them from Sam. Then-

Bobby fell. Sam prayed for Castiel as fast as he could, but even as the angel had shown up, Zachariah had thrown his hand against the wall and in a flash Castiel had disappeared. Even as Sam had gaped in horror, he’d been grabbed from behind.

Instinct had him shoving his leg and elbow backward, enough to get himself free. They’d tried to come again, and he’d fought them off, held them off even as he’d gotten slammed around a little. He’d held his own. Then he’d taken off for the outside, racing for something, anything, to defend himself, a blade to try the sigil for himself.

The sudden shock of pain in his right flank had sent him to the ground. Only when he’d turned over had he seen Zachariah and the other six angels, with one of them holding another four throwing knives. The last thing he’d seen had been Zachariah’s sneer before he’d been punched out.

That had been hours ago. Hopefully not days ago. Time sort of had no meaning in the cold warehouse where everything was barely lit by a handful of bulbs dangling overhead. Random piles of dusty junk were scattered everywhere between the six angels that stood at strategic points in the room. The only reason Sam had any idea where he was came from the faint sound of the rush of cars and the old rusted door of a Detroit taxi that sat in the corner.

Zachariah continued pacing. “So now what?” Sam asked, pushing his nerves and grief down. “You’ve got me in an undisclosed location. I’m still bleeding, by the way, and you’ve done…nothing. What’s the matter? Had prom night all planned out and then no idea how to follow through and satisfy?”

The fist into his face didn’t surprise him so much as the speed at which Zachariah got to him. “Takes one to know one,” Zachariah said. Sam turned and spit out a small amount of blood, aiming for Zachariah’s shoes.

In an instant Zachariah had him by the hair and had yanked his head back so hard that his eyes watered and his neck cracked. Zachariah’s eyes held a dangerous glow in them. “There is only one reason I don’t kill you now, you worthless cretin,” he said, “and that’s because you have a purpose as a vessel for the big finale. I need you to be ready to host Lucifer so your big brother can do what he should’ve done a long time ago, and put you down.”

Anger flared inside of Sam. “And what, end the world with it, right?”

“End the plague that is humanity, that is a bonus,” Zachariah agreed. “You’ve been a stench, a sore on God’s creation for long enough. Michael will clean you all out, starting with Lucifer.”

“You really think he’s going to do that? You know nothing about my brother.”

Expecting another blow, he was surprised when instead Zachariah simply let him go. “Know nothing about him?” Zachariah threw his head back and laughed. “I know _everything_ about him. He’s Michael the Firstborn, Dad’s favorite. The loyal soldier. The good son. Any of that ringing a bell?”

Unease began to grow inside of Sam. “So there’s some similarities between Michael and-“

“And then there’s you,” Zachariah continued, ignoring Sam completely. “The little brother who doesn’t listen, the one who ruined his relationship with his big brother and any other family members because he had to have his own way. He just _knew_ he could control evil instead of it controlling him and he’d still turn out to be a good kid, a hero. He could guzzle down all that demon blood and not have it affect him at _all._ That’s just what the other addicts say.”

He picked up a random bar of steel leaning against a rusting oil barrel and gave it a swing. “How’d that work out for you, Sparky?” he asked. “You win any home runs with that?”

Sam swallowed hard. Zachariah raised his eyebrows and swung again. “And he strikes out!” he said, then threw the bar so hard to the side that it impaled itself into a wooden beam. “Guess maybe you shouldn’t have trusted the demon bitch, but hey, you know best, right?”

“Like Heaven didn’t have a hand in that,” Sam said, finding his voice at last. “You wanted me to kill Lilith.”

“Of course we did! She needed to go! We’ve got big plans and getting her out of the way was sort of crucial, so props to you on that one. Didn’t know you were going to need _that_ much -=0demon blood guzzled down to do it, but to each their own. How’s it taste, by the way? Did you tell Dean just how much you drank in order to take down Lilith?”

Sam curled his fingers into fists behind him. “He understands-“

“No, he told you he understood,” Zachariah interrupted. “Of course he did. Michael’s a benevolent son of a bitch, too, merciful and all that. But the thing is, that mercy of his comes followed swiftly by a sword. As it should. And Dean’s the same way. He’s fighting so hard to not put you down like the dog you are but it’s getting harder and harder to do. I mean,” and he laughed and spread his arms wide, “you’re _Lucifer’s vessel_. The Devil. The one who started all the problems in Heaven, the one who’s going to bring about the end of the world!”

None of it was true. Not a single part of it. He knew better, knew his brother, believed in him. Dean had fought for him and continued to fight for him.

But the tiny voice inside of him, the one that he’d never really been able to silence, couldn’t help but doubt.

“Do you know why we never stepped in and stopped you from drinking all that demon blood? Why you became an addict for the most _disgusting_ substance on earth and we never did a thing? Hmm?”

He grabbed hold of Sam’s hair again, and this time his other hand went to Sam’s throat, cutting off his air. Sam fought against him, trying desperately to get in a breath. His throat burned with the lack of oxygen as the fingers tightened cruelly, digging into his skin.

Zachariah leaned in close to his ear, and even over the high-pitched ringing in his ears, he could still hear the angel’s reedy voice. “Because you needed it in order for you to become Lucifer’s vessel. You didn’t have enough in you and you needed more. You still need more.”

He suddenly let go of Sam, shoving him so far back that the chair slid against the concrete. Sam coughed against the pain in his throat even as he tried to inhale.

Another blow caught him from under his chin, sending his head whipping back. “Pay _attention_ ,” Zachariah demanded. “This is important, monkey.”

“Go to Hell,” Sam choked out. Blood dripped from his mouth and his eyes burned with unshed tears.

“Nope, that’s for you to do,” Zachariah told him. “My goal is to see it happen. And honestly, you should be grateful. I mean, I’m keeping you from making more mistakes. You’ll be doing something _right_ for once! Doesn’t that feel good?”

“Sayin’ yes to bein’ the Devil is ‘good’?” Sam rasped. Oh god his throat felt like it was on fire and his entire being ached. He could still feel blood rolling down from his side and it was making him vaguely nauseated. _Gabriel please,_ he prayed weakly. _Gabriel help me._

There was no sudden flutter of wings, no Gabriel or Dean to save him. Just him, alone, bleeding out. His heart twisted viciously in his chest.

“It’s good for you,” Zachariah said. “Lucifer, evil incarnate though he may be, is still an archangel. And he’s going to burn out all of the demon that you are. The demon you were when that yellow-eyed bastard bled into your mouth when you were just a baby. You haven’t been good or right since, but now, now you’re going to be. And it’s going to be _glorious_. So take the win, kid.”

His head throbbed. _Dean’s coming for me,_ he thought, and almost begged for it to be true. _I’m not a demon, I’m not, Dean’s coming for me-_

“You and Lucifer are two sides of the same coin,” Zachariah said, eyes pinning Sam to his seat. “You’re both little brothers and screw-ups. Lucifer’s done a million times worse things than you, killed hundreds of his own siblings and doomed humanity in more ways than one, but he did it with that same pride that got you into such hot water. You keep trying to tell yourself it was for good reasons. Ultimately, you lied to your brother, you drank demon blood, made yourself unclean, a monster and an addict, all just to prove yourself right.”

Sam shook his head, feeling dizzy. “No,” he said, voice trembling. “No, I-“

“If it hadn’t been for our plans, we would’ve smote you where you stood a dozen times over,” Zachariah snapped. “You’re just demon blood wrapped up in a tortilla of humanity. No one cares about the outside of the taco, Sam. It’s the inside that counts. And your inside is monstrously rotten.”

He leaned forward and landed his final blow. “And Dean knows it, too. He knows what you really are.”

Sam felt all of his strength leave him and let his head hang low. Tears slipped down his cheeks unchecked. All he wanted was his big brother. All he wanted was for Dean to burst in through the doors and carve his way through seven angels and take Sam home. He wanted Castiel to be all right, for Bobby to be alive, for Gabriel to lead the charge with Dean and tend to every wound he had.

But his heart felt like it had been tossed through a shredder and left mutilated on the ground. Everything that Zachariah had said was everything he’d ever feared, everything he’d never wanted to be. He’d been so desperate to be right, to do the right thing, and instead he’d lied to Dean and abandoned him for Ruby. He’d become addicted, he’d made himself filthy. Wrong.

Maybe Lucifer had deserved to be in the Cage. Maybe he deserved to be there, too.

“About time,” Zachariah crowed, and Sam raised his head at that. There, striding across the room, was Dean.

Except it wasn’t Dean. No, his brother had always held a swagger but never the real confidence behind it, the strength that Sam knew he ought to have. He’d always faked it, putting forth his bravado and hating anyone for calling him out as anything close to amazing and strong and _good_. Self-loathing always hung across his brother like an ill-fitted jacket he wouldn’t part with.

This Dean stood with an almost regal bearing, strength emanating from every pore. His head was held high, and he strode forward with purpose. This was the brother that Sam had always wanted Dean to be, the man that Dean deserved to be. The man that he could be if Dean could let go of his self-loathing and wrongful humility.

And suddenly Sam understood why Dean had never been that way, why he was this way now. “Michael,” he croaked, and Dean’s eyes moved to him. A surge of joy flooded him, because he’d done it. Michael was whole again. “ _Michael_.”

“Michael,” Zachariah echoed, sounding smug and so self-assured. He smirked at Sam’s wide eyes, misinterpreting the joy for fear, and turned back to Dean. “I’d wondered where you’d been, big guy! I’ve got Lucifer’s vessel right here, ready for you to get your smiting on. Or, y’know, whatever else you feel like. You can drop his ass in the Cage too, if you want. I haven’t been able to get him to say yes to Lucifer, but I’m hoping you can do that.”

“I believe I can manage that,” Dean, _Michael_ , said. He was everything that Sam remembered from what little his dreams had given him, and it made him want to break down and weep. His big brother was right there, finally, _finally_ , and Sam was bound and broken before him, unable to do anything.

But maybe Michael wasn’t there for his little brother. Even now he was turning to Sam, gaze strong and resolute, _condemning_ , and Sam’s heart dropped into his stomach. Maybe Michael could see the demon blood, could see Sam as the monster he truly was, and he was here to do what he should’ve done years ago. Maybe becoming the archangel had helped Dean see Sam for what he really was. His shoulders came up, preparing to shield him from the oncoming blow.

_Sammy_.

The voice, a whisper through his mind, caught his attention, bringing his gaze up despite the lead in his stomach. His brother stood before him, Zachariah and his cohorts behind him. The flash of Grace in the eyes was all Michael, but the wink was all Dean.

_I’m here, Sammy. Trust me. It’s gonna be all right._

The relief was almost enough to shatter his composure, and Sam dropped his head to let his tears run freely. Dean was there. Michael was there. Sam didn’t need to be strong anymore. Not with his big brother there.

Because his brother had come for him. Just as he had every time before. Dean had come for him.

And just like every other time, his big brother refused to let him sink into the despair that threatened to choke him. Dean, Michael, they loved him despite his mistakes, despite everything he’d done. He was _loved_.

A hand rested on the top of his head, one he’d know anywhere. It was probably meant to look forceful and powerful but Sam felt the gentleness of the fingers. Felt the callouses that he knew so well slide from the top of his head to cup the side of his face. There was a touch that was almost too hot, but it warmed him from the inside out and felt perfect. Sam gasped when he realized what it was: Grace. Michael’s Grace, healing the ache in his head, easing the swelling around his eye, closing the wound in his back. Tears of relief and pure joy flooded his vision. “Michael, please,” he whispered. _Please get me out of this._

Zachariah caught the whisper and translated it to be a plea for mercy. “I did the best I could to break him,” he said with a shrug. “I mean, Sam’s human, but he’s Lucifer’s vessel, so he’s capable of taking more than you think. He’s got your little brother’s stubbornness, and you know how obnoxious Luce’s stubbornness was.” He let out a snort of amusement. “But hey, you get to do something about that here in a short bit! As soon as Sam says yes, you can finally beat that stubborn streak out of him!”

If Zachariah could’ve seen Michael’s face, he would’ve seen the clear look of rage that was growing across his brother’s face. Sam watched instead as Michael’s hand tightened its grip on the side of Sam’s head, as lips turned up into a snarl and eyes burned with anger. This was Michael at his angriest, but it was more than that.

This was _Dean_ , looking every bit the big brother who was willing to put down a bully or five for daring to look at Sam wrong. Anyone on the receiving end of that look would’ve taken a healthy step backward.

Sam, on the other hand, felt even more relieved than before.

But what was Michael waiting for? And why the hell was Sam still chained to the chair? He was healed but he couldn’t do anything without being free.

_Patience, little brother,_ came Michael’s, _Dean’s,_ voice. _I have you, and I promise, you’re going to be all right. I wouldn’t let you down._

“You never have,” Sam murmured. The rage faded a little and Dean’s face slid into annoyed fondness, like he didn’t want to feel touched because dammit, he was _angry_. It only made Sam’s lips turn up a little more.

There was a cough from behind them – Zachariah – and this time, he didn’t sound as pleased. “Um, Mikey, listen. I hate to rush you, but we sort of have an apocalypse to get started, some smiting that needs to happen, that sort of thing.”

“There is smiting that needs to happen,” Michael said. His voice sounded high and mighty, regal, just as it always did

_-after long days conversing and leading the other angels, always taking on too much, trying to manage a group of angels who insisted on following Father’s orders with no care for the living beings they’d been tasked with protecting-_

Sam blinked. That was more than a random thought. That was a memory.

But he was awake. How the hell could he have gotten a memory when he was awake-

And then he saw it. Inside of Dean’s coat, a flash of something bright and beautiful, something that called to him, something that _was_ him. Something that he wanted more than anything, something he yearned for, something he was missing-

His Grace. His brother had found his Grace.

Even as he swelled with longing and happiness, Sam instantly shut it down, fear swamping him. No, he couldn’t, he couldn’t, the Mark, what would happen if the Mark wasn’t completely tied to Cain, and the Cage remnant, what would happen if-

A gentle tap against the side of his face brought him back to reality. “I’m waiting,” Michael said, but his eyes were pinned on Sam. “I sent out a message – I need the response before I can continue.”

“To Lucifer? No, wait, so you can kill Lucy, right?” Zachariah asked, bewildered, but Michael wasn’t talking to him. Sam’s mind raced with what his brother was telling him.

He’d sent Gabriel. Gabriel was out there somewhere doing something. Sneaking around

- _to come up behind Michael. “Element of surprise,” he told his little brother, and Gabriel’s eyes lit up with glee, pulling one on his oldest brother, and he had no clue that Michael was well aware of their ‘prank’ and was patiently filling his role with a hint of a smirk as he waited to turn the tables-_

It had to be the Grace. This close, it was almost bleeding over, giving Sam memories he hadn’t had in decades, centuries, millennia. What happened if the Grace came to him without Michael needing to break the glass container? The Mark, he couldn’t be that being again, and he couldn’t go back to the Cage, _please Michael keep me safe-_

And just like he always had, his big brother answered.

“That’s what I’m here for.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this is the moment that everyone was really waiting for. Sam, your Grace is waiting...

It was interesting, being two consciousnesses at the same time. Well, two that had always ever really been one. Dean wasn’t really all that different from Michael: turns out, being an over-protective older brother was something he’d always been.

Yet they were still almost separate entities, in a way. Michael’s experiences, while memories to Dean, were still Michael’s. And Dean’s life was separate from Michael’s. They were one in the same, and yet they weren’t. They were coming together, slowly but surely, and Dean wasn’t sure which being he’d be at the end. _Maybe someone completely new_ , the Michael part of him pondered.

They were still coming together though, all the same. Michael’s wisdom and calm surety was almost foreign to Dean but a welcome reprieve from the storm that usually brewed in his mind. And Dean’s snark and sass were heartily welcomed by Michael. _Bad influence_ , he could all but hear his little brother say, and it made both parts of him grin.

There was one being where they were in firm agreement, where they felt exactly the same. And he was slumped over in a metal chair, chained down, looking nine types of worked over.

It wasn’t just the physical that Dean worried about, because that he’d healed, but damn if the amount of blood and bruises on Sammy hadn’t set both parts of him off. No, he was worried about what Zachariah had said, had done to Sam prior to his arrival. His brother had been in shock when he’d arrived, but he’d known immediately what had happened, and there had been awe and joy and so much _love_ on his face that it had almost been impossible to not run straight to him and get him to safety.

Then Sam had hunched in on himself, eyes dropping to the floor, and the distressed look on his face had been too easy to read. Even worse, his little brother’s Grace had responded in kind, the light dimming, misery and insecurity like a grater to Dean’s very being. Michael’s Grace had tried to swell, to reach up and protect Lucifer, but there was almost nothing he could do with his little brother’s Grace still held in a jar, and him unable to talk to Sam without giving away the game.

_“Just keep Zachariah talking,” Gabriel told him. “The longer you can get him to monologue, the more you can find out, and the safer you’ll keep Sam. Besides, I’m gonna need all the time I can to ensure that the Mark is safe and won’t get out to attach to Luce. The Cage will have to be step two, but the ritual comes first.”_

_“How long do you need?”_

_“How long can you give me?”_

_Loaded question. “If you want this to last longer than a few minutes and not end with me smiting everyone that isn’t my little brother, I’m gonna need some backup.”_

_Gabriel grinned. “Now backup I can do.”_

He’d healed Sam’s injuries as best he could, and reassured Sam’s silent pleas. It was taking every ounce of him to not take Sam and just _run_ , more with every word that fell from Zachariah’s smug and self-righteous lips. The asshole seemed so pleased at how he’d broken Sam. Whatever he’d said had set Sam’s confidence in himself, in Dean, back a trillion steps.

Sam was leaning towards Dean now and seemed more settled than before, but there was still a part of him that felt as broken as he’d been the night the Cage had opened. As broken as he’d been the last time Michael had seen him.

_“I’ll find you. I will always find you, little brother.”_

_Lucifer’s smile, so small and so frightened, so broken. “But will you know me? Will you love me?”_

Yes. The answer was always yes. And Dean was damn tired of people hurting his little brother.

“I don’t hear Lucifer coming,” Zachariah sniffed. He tapped his foot impatiently. “He didn’t show when I was whaling on his vessel, either. I’d have expected him to be a little more concerned about what happens to Sam.” He glanced around Dean and made a face. “Did you have to heal him? You always were too soft-hearted.”

Whatever thing Dean would’ve managed to pull up from his far more politically correct side disappeared in the sudden rush of wings settling as another angel arrived. This one, however, was more of a surprise. “Cas?”

Castiel stood in the middle of the group, panting slightly as if he’d just been running. His wings were extended and twitching, overworked perhaps, and holy crap, Dean could see his _wings_. He didn’t know why he was so surprised, but for some reason, seeing his friend’s wings at long last left him wide-eyed. They were black and iridescent, much like a raven’s wings, with silver along the tips. _Captain’s wingtips_ , the Michael part of him said, and there was a beautiful memory attached as Castiel received that designation, the look in his eyes, the way his wings had twitched in excitement. He remembered telling Lucifer later-

One of these days, a memory of Lucifer wasn’t going to feel like a stake through the heart.

The other angels gathered brought their wings up in a clearly hostile stance. Zachariah’s wings twitched from where they were tucked behind his back, but otherwise they made no attempt to rise. Bastard thought he was safe.

“Now’s not a good time, Castiel,” Zachariah told him. “It’s game over, kiddo.”

“Dean!” Castiel called, and he looked anguished. “Michael, release your vessel!”

Dean frowned. What…? But Cas knew that he was Michael, so why-?

“I do not fear standing up to you, though I have no _backup_ ,” Castiel continued. “And if this is where I end, then it will be by your hand and no one else’s.”

Backup. Gabriel had promised him backup, and boy had he delivered. “You have long gone against the grain and the will of Heaven, Castiel,” he said, letting the part of him that was Michael slide into place.

At the sound of rattling chains, he glanced back at Sam and found his brother’s face schooled into desperation. “Cas, get out of here! Michael’s already taken Dean, just _go_!”

_Good job, Sammy. Castiel, where is Gabriel?_

Castiel kept his gaze steady, but his inner voice, his True Voice, came through suddenly and with a beautiful harmony that was low and steady. _Michael, Gabriel is coming as swiftly as he can. The ritual is taking longer than he originally thought. Once he has done it, you can release Lucifer’s Grace._

Time to use Zachariah to his advantage, then. “Castiel, to me, now,” Michael commanded. “Zachariah, call your angels off. Castiel is mine to discipline.”

“Cas, no,” Sam choked out. Castiel threw his wings back as if in defiance but slowly strode towards Dean. The other angels snapped their wings in victory, and one even rattled his wings together in pure spiteful glee. None of them seemed concerned about Cas being smote; Dean was pretty sure they were looking forward to it.

Dickbags. Michael couldn’t _wait_ to give them what they deserved. Starting with Zachariah.

“Michael, I had sort of hoped-“

“You may want for a great many things, Zachariah,” Michael said, and he couldn’t help but add, “Though it is a bit unbecoming of you to desire something. It’s very…human of you.”

The way that Zachariah’s face twisted reminded Dean of the last time Bobby had missed the super spicy pepper that he and Sam had tossed into the chili when he wasn’t looking. It made his lips twitch upwards. “Castiel,” he called, raising his voice and letting a bit of his True Voice come through. It was louder than he’d anticipated, and he almost winced when he looked at Sam.

But Sam didn’t seem phased at all. He was watching, playing his part of the horrified human, and didn’t give so much as a flinch at the sound of Michael’s Grace echoing in his voice. Huh. They’d certainly both felt the pain of a True Voice, before. And Sam had no Grace of his own; only Dean had his-

Oh. _Oh_. Well, that was…nice. Sam was still so attuned to his big brother that Michael’s Grace wasn’t hurting him, not even a little. It was a nice thought that lasted for all of three seconds before Dean realized that if Zachariah caught wind of Sam not cringing away from a True Voice, that was going to be harder to explain.

“Castiel, do you know why I wanted you before me?” Michael asked. Castiel wasn’t exactly kneeling, but he was definitely showing deference and respect to Michael’s level. It was…discomfiting.

“I can think of a few reasons,” Castiel muttered. Michael cleared his throat pointedly and Castiel turned his head further to the ground. “You believe that I have been acting in opposition to Heaven’s wishes.”

“I do, yes.” And a good thing, too.

“I don’t believe you should be telling angels to do these things, Michael,” Castiel said earnestly. He glanced at Zachariah briefly, then back up at Michael. “This isn’t what our Father wanted.”

Gabriel had clearly told him the name of the game, then. “I had no hand in any of this,” Michael said. “I only know of what has been foretold. Zachariah has received these orders from our Father.” He turned an expectant eye towards the dickbag in question. “Though, if he did receive orders from our Father, then he should have come to me to share these thoughts,” he added sharply.

Zachariah blinked. Clearly he hadn’t been expecting the turn of conversation. “I, uh, of course I would share something if God had tuned in and told me,” he said quickly. “I wouldn’t keep that from you, Michael.”

“If not from our Father, then who?” Michael asked. He knew what the answer was going to be, but still, he hoped that someone, anyone else, would be implicated. _Please not him, please, it can’t be, it just can’t-_

“Raphael,” Zachariah said proudly, and Michael’s heart sank. “He got his orders from God above. I’m surprised he didn’t tell you, Mikey, but you _have_ been out of the game for a while. Which, by the way, where have you-”

“I have been doing Father’s work. And I have been pulled from that work to play what appears to be my little brother’s game. What exactly am I supposed to get out of this, Zachariah?”

If there was anything that Dean, and now Michael, had learned over the years, it was that selfish and self-centered bastards responded best to…well, other selfish and self-centered bastards. Zachariah took the lure like a charm. “You mean what do _we_ get out of this. Come on, Michael, we finally get the Earth cleared out of these apes! You get to kick Lucifer’s ass up one side and down the other, and we get the cleared-out planet. I mean, sure, your cosmic ass-kicking isn’t going to wipe out all of humanity, but we can take care of a few pockets of resistance. Just think of it! Heaven on Earth as it was supposed to be: we’ll take care of the planet that they keep screwing up. We’ll get Paradise back on track and it’ll be ours at last. The way it was supposed to be. This is going to be amazing!”

The plan itself didn’t particularly surprise Michael. No, what left him feeling as if someone had ripped a hammer through his ribcage was the thought that _Raphael_ really had been doing this. Raphael the healer, the gentle, the one who had never wanted anything to do with the fighting. Raph was the one leading the charge? To what, decimate the world of humans and turn it over to the angels?

“Humanity was one of Father’s favored creations,” Michael warned. “I’m not sure this is what he would’ve wanted.”

“Who cares what God wants?” Zachariah snapped. “He’s not here, now is he?”

And they said that Lucifer had fallen. “Look, I got you the traitor, I got you the stupid little brother,” the so dead sonuvabitch continued. He brushed his fingers over his suit jacket and looked every inch the smug and self-righteous asshole he truly was. “I’d say that should be enough to put me well into contention.”

“Contention?” Castiel couldn’t help but growl. “Contention for _what_ , biggest tool in the world?”

Michael managed to stifle his grin, but only just. _Been hanging around me for too long, Cas,_ Dean thought.

“You watch your mouth,” Zachariah warned him. “Once I’m an archangel, I’ll take care of that talking problem you have.”

Wait, what? “Archangel?” Michael asked stiffly.

Zachariah blinked, as if Michael were the one saying stupid things. “Well, yeah. Once you kill Lucifer, there’ll be an opening, right? I think I’m more than capable of the job.”

Gabriel had better show up right the hell now, because Michael’s patience had hit an end. To smear Lucifer’s name and taunt him was one thing; another to physically harm Sam. But to speak of killing his little brother, just to gain a step up the ladder? It was about all he could take.

“Michael has no use for you,” Castiel insisted. “You’d make a terrible archangel.”

There was a pause. Zachariah was still brushing imaginary lint off of his jacket. “Yeah, well. He’s got no use for you and yet here you are, still rambling on when Michael should’ve smote you to the Empty and back. Except he’s not going to, is he?”

Oh crap. Oh crap oh crap oh _shit_. “Excuse me?” Michael said, aiming for stern and aloof when inside he was beginning to panic. Gabriel still wasn’t there. _Gabriel, hurry! We’re out of time!_

“Yeah,” Zachariah said. “You’ve got a bit of Dean Winchester pushing back and keeping us from moving on. I wouldn’t be surprised if Dean-o’s been in charge of most of this conversation. How’d you manage to subdue Mikey, Dean?”

Well, he wasn’t too far off base, but still enough that Michael almost dared to breathe. Almost. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, but what you’re inferring is insane.”

“Eh, you _almost_ have Michael down. But Michael’s less talk, more action. Sammy here would’ve been blown to bits already, and Cassie would’ve been on his way to the Empty, no questions asked. So this has to be Dean.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t call him ‘Sammy’ if I were you. Only his brother gets to call him that.”

The burst of air Michael let out was all relief. _Gabriel_.

All the angels turned towards Gabriel, who was standing in the middle of the room, looking grim and pissed off. “And you don’t touch Sam _or_ Cas,” he continued. “Not while I’m still alive.”

_Gabriel, is it done?_ Michael prayed. There was no answer. _Gabriel!_

“Get out of here, you half-wit wannabe trickster,” Zachariah snapped. “You’ve got no business in this.”

Gabriel’s eyes flashed, and the other angels suddenly took three steps back. There was an aura building around Gabriel’s head, no, it was light, golden and full of glory and…was that a _halo_?

Zachariah finally seemed to buy into the idea that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t just a trickster. Then Gabriel unfurled all six of his glorious wings, and he was never going to get over the ability to see those wings. To see every part of Gabriel’s Grace without flinching.

“Gabriel?” Zachariah gasped. “But, but I thought-“

“Yeah, well, you never really did enough thinking to merit calling it ‘thought’,” Gabriel retorted. “Case in point.”

He slid his blade out and twitched his wings. “And what to do with the rest of you,” he mused, eyes blazing gold as he took in the other six angels.

Suddenly the other angels began to attack, all of them heading for Gabriel. Gabriel turned and raced through a set of huge metal doors. “Cas, go!” Michael shouted as all the angels hurried after Gabriel, and Castiel raced forward, blade in hand. He stopped on a dime, though, and turned, and a good thing too, because Zachariah had already started swinging towards Michael, and Castiel’s blade stopped him from striking. Zachariah snarled and parried far better than Michael would’ve expected in his vessel.

Michael turned to Sam. “Get me out of here,” Sam said, rattling the chains that held him to the chair. “Michael-“

“Not gonna be enough,” he said tightly. Sam was strong, but in an angel fight, it wasn’t going to be enough. Gabriel was here, that had to mean they were safe. It _had_ to.

He pulled the Grace out from under his jacket. Sam froze, eyes wide. “Dean-“

“Gabe’s got it handled,” he promised. “The ritual’s gotta be done.”

“And if it’s not?” Sam shook his head. “I can’t, Dean, I can’t do this, be that person again, Michael I _can’t_ -“

He grabbed his little brother’s shoulders and forced him to meet his gaze. “Yes, you can,” he said. Sam’s eyes were wide with panic. “I believe in you. I always have, always will.”

Then he uncapped the bottle.

Lucifer’s Grace surged free and dove straight for Sam. Sam gasped and Michael could only watch as the face he knew became the _being_ he knew. The chains disappeared as if they’d never been there and the building began to shake. In the background, Michael could hear Zachariah hollering and a few car alarms going off.

He noted them and then summarily ignored them. Because this, this was what he’d waited for: Lucifer, out of the Cage, whole and _free_.

There was a reason Lucifer got billed as the brightest of them all, because he was. Michael’s Grace had always been bright and beautiful, but Lucifer’s put his to shame every time. His Grace shone so bright that even Michael had a hide time keeping an eye on the being within the Grace. The entire room went absolutely white.

It wasn’t even just a visual thing, no, because Lucifer’s Grace gleamed in other ways. There was something about it that made Michael feel cherished, beloved, more than anything else had ever made him feel. Father’s Glory had always made him puff up in pride and joy, but nothing had left him feeling like his best self than Lucifer’s Grace. He was more powerful, kinder, better, _loved_. All because of his little brother.

The light began to subside, and when Michael blinked, the warehouse was cold and almost completely dark in comparison to how bright it had been. In the middle of the room, sitting in the chair with his eyes closed, was Sam.

Sam gazed up at him, but it wasn’t just Sam. It was Lucifer. Eyes awash with tears and a trembling smile, _Lucifer_ gazed at him with wonder. “You found me,” he whispered. “You knew me.”

Finally. _Yes_ , Michael sent to him, and Lucifer gave a laugh that resounded with his Grace. _And I always will._

He pulled Lucifer to his feet and watched as all six of Lucifer’s wings unfurled. They looked awkward, like a fledgling’s wings, wings that didn’t know what to do. “Need a refresher?” Michael asked cheekily, and Lucifer grinned.

“They feel good. Weird, but good. I’ve missed them.”

Lucifer’s smile dropped slightly as he shivered. “What’s wrong?” Michael demanded.

“Still cold,” Lucifer replied, and the resignation in them was all Sam. “Dean-“

He _was_ still cold down to his core: Dean could feel it through his own Grace. Lucifer’s usual warmth was still missing. “We’ll deal with it,” he said. “Promise, Sammy. First, however, I have an angel I _really_ want to gank.”

He turned to Zachariah and found the angel standing a ways back as if he’d been shoved back. Castiel still had his blade raised, and Dean realized that Zachariah was sporting a Grace-deep cut on his cheek. Castiel didn’t even look ruffled.

Zachariah, however, was _very_ ruffled. “You, but, you-“

“Oh, I’m sorry, were we supposed to be fighting to the death right about now?” Dean asked casually. His fingers twirled around nothing until suddenly they weren’t, and a cool blade slid into his grasp. His own angel blade. _Damn_ did it feel good to have it back. “Sammy, you feelin’ up to killing something?”

“Yeah, but not you,” Sam said tightly. He pulled himself to his full height and stood proud in a way he never had as a human. He’d always shunned his height, hidden behind his hair. Only when he’d been a hunter had he ever truly stopped slouching and owned his being.

Now, though, now Dean understood why. Because he’d been missing the confident part of him that he’d always really been. This was Lucifer in his element, strong and sure and powerful, and it was glorious to behold.

“No,” Sam, _Lucifer_ , said, “I feel that our time can be better spent dealing with a different angel.”

Zachariah’s Grace went dim. Michael raised his blade and pointed it at him. “Let’s talk about the past few years or so,” he said. “I want details on what Heaven’s been doing, as well as this supposed prophecy of us killing each other.”

“Details would help,” Lucifer agreed. His hazel eyes suddenly flashed a sunset red. “Details would go a _long_ way towards extending your lifespan.”

“But, but you were supposed to kill each other! Why else would we have made vessels for you two? True vessels?”

Michael just stared. Lucifer crossed his arms and glared. Zachariah went even paler. “You’re, you’re not following God’s plan,” he said, clearly trying to get some of his momentum back. Castiel moved to join them, and Zachariah suddenly glared at him. “This is all your fault. You did something to them!”

“I helped,” Castiel said simply. Then he shrugged. “That’s what brothers are supposed to do. That’s what a good Captain is meant to do.”

Zachariah snorted. “You lost your title, Cassie, don’t try and intimidate me.”

“Only I get to call him Cassie,” Gabriel said. Zachariah whipped around to where Gabriel stood, leaning with no apparent care for anything against the door to the other room. The room that was suspiciously silent. “Five of yours aren’t here anymore. I let the last one go back home since she didn’t raise her blade to me. Not sure what I’m going to do with you yet.”

“Wormholes work wonders,” Lucifer pointed out. “And you do still have the rings.”

“Ooh, jump straight to my favorite idea, Luce. Always a surefire way to make me happy.”

Zachariah began to turn in frantic circles, suddenly realizing just how locked in and trapped he was. “Michael, c’mon,” he wheedled, giving a nervous laugh. “I was just following orders.”

“Whose orders?” Michael asked, raising an eyebrow. “Your own?”

“No. Mine.”

That voice. Michael spun around and stared in growing dismay. He’d been so sure, _so sure_ , that it wasn’t possible.

Yet there he stood, tall and refined in the host of a beautiful woman, dark skin and long dark hair a stark difference to the pale blue business suit. His eyes flashed a brilliant blue.

Michael swallowed hard, heart sinking like a stone. “Raphael,” he murmured.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've got a lot to wrap up. Hold on and strap in tight.

Raphael stepped forward, eyes darting across the whole group of them. When his eyes crossed over Gabriel, he startled in genuine shock. “Gabriel?” he whispered, voice higher-pitched and soft. It only added to the gentle, yet formidable, image that Raphael presented in his feminine body. “You’re…you’re alive?”

“Yeah,” Gabriel said. “Wish I could say I’m happy to see you, bro, but that’s going to depend on what you say next.”

“I don’t want a quarrel any more than you do,” Raphael said, and it sounded like Raphael, sounded so _much_ like his brother, that Michael could almost believe that nothing was wrong.

And yet…

Raphael turned to Lucifer and his eyes narrowed. “This matter doesn’t require a quarrel,” he said. “It requires Michael removing Lucifer. This doesn’t make me happy, but the Earth needs purging and healing. And it starts with Lucifer. Michael, take your sword-“

“Are you insane?” Michael sputtered. Raphael turned to him, frowning. “You’ve completely lost your mind, you know that, right? You seriously think I’m going to, what, take out my little brother?”

“You’re allowing your feelings to color your judgment,” Raphael intoned, and he sounded like a perfect little soldier, repeating the company line. Michael had been that good little soldier, once, and it made him sick to think about.

Then Lucifer had been locked away in a Cage. Then he’d become Dean Winchester.

“Better to have feelings than be a robot,” Lucifer said with a glare. “What happened to you?”

“You were always too emotional,” Raphael sneered, finally showing some emotion. “It’s why you were always second best, always never good enough. There was never a doubt that you wouldn’t be able to hold onto the Mark. A _human_ has managed it better than you. That says everything it needs to.”

Lucifer stayed stone-faced, but Michael knew the barbs had to be digging in. Sammy’s eyes spoke volumes, and Dean snarled in response. “I’d trust him more than I’d trust you right now,” he said. “He’s been beside me this whole time, fighting for Father’s creations. What have you been doing?”

“Don’t come to me and tell me about doing _Father’s will_ when you’re not doing what you’re supposed to! You can’t just pick and choose what you follow: this is his will!”

“And when the hell did he say that?” Gabriel exclaimed. “Because I got news for you, that’s not a message I ever heard from him.”

Raphael turned hard eyes towards him. “As if you’ve been listening to any of his messages. You’ve been playing, what, a demigod? You wouldn’t know if Father had given any sort of messages.”

Gabriel flinched and okay, that was enough. Slamming both Sam and Gabriel with cheap shots was about all Dean could handle. “Hey Raph, chill the fuck out,” he growled. “Let’s try talking about your colossally bad choices, if that’s the route you wanna take. How about trying to end the world and, oh yeah, convincing one of your siblings to kill one of your other brothers?”

“And what about the Mark?” Sam asked, voice low and dangerous. Apparently going after Gabriel had pissed him off, too. “What happens when I die and something happens to Cain?”

“Then it will go to the angel it was meant to go to, the one who was supposed to bear it,” Raphael said. “Michael can handle it.”

“You mean Michael will be chained by it,” Sam retorted. “And you don’t see a problem with that?”

“Just because you couldn’t handle it-“

“Michael,” Castiel called urgently, and a rush of wings followed a moment later. It took not even half a second to realize that in the midst of dealing with Raphael, Zachariah had taken the opportunity to disappear.

Dean snarled. That little cowardly bastard. And he still hadn’t answered for that voicemail. “Son of a _bitch_ -“

Castiel let his wings stretch behind him, black and beautiful and twitching in anger. “I’ve got him. Leave it to me.”

“Be careful,” Sam said, and Castiel took to the skies, his wings cutting effortlessly through the air.

That left them with Raphael, who didn’t seem the slightest bit concerned about being left alone with his three brothers. In fact, he had his arms crossed and was tapping the front of some very expensive-looking heels on the concrete floor. He looked _bored_. “I have things to do,” he said. “Gabriel, you are of course welcome to return to Heaven if you are done playing trickster god with humanity. Michael, do as you are told-“

“No,” Michael said. He dragged every ounce of him that was Dean into his spine and gave Raphael a ‘try me’ smirk. “I’ve learned a thing or two about standing up to dads the hard way, but I don’t even think I’m trying to follow Father’s orders, am I? I’m following yours.”

“These are messages handed down from Father-“

“Don’t you care?” Lucifer asked, Sam’s doe-eyes set into place. Or maybe Sam had gotten them from Lucifer. He remembered Lucifer using those eyes a lot. “We’re going to kill each other and this doesn’t matter to you?”

“Why would it matter to me when nothing I’ve ever done, nothing I’ve ever been, has ever mattered to any of you?” Raphael asked. “Why would I take the time to deal with the likes of you?”

None of this sounded like Raphael. “Let me repeat what Luce asked earlier,” Gabriel said, shocked, “which is, what the _fuck_ happened to you?”

“I learned not to rely on my brothers, and to do as I need to,” Raphael said darkly. “That’s what happened. You all left, and I learned to stand on my own. I don’t need you. Any of you. You can all go rot in the Cage, it doesn’t make a difference to me.”

The anger that Michael had felt earlier returned full force. Lucifer had been struck dumb it seemed, and Gabriel’s face was turning red. “If this was what we were missing,” Michael said, “then I guess we made the right decision.”

Raphael’s eyes flared. “It’s been a long time since you’ve made one of those.”

“Mikey’s the only one who’s been making the right call here-“

“You want us all in the Cage? I bet that would make things far easier for you to command Heaven-“

“Someone has to do it and it’s clearly not you-“

“And this is healing? You’re supposed to be helping angels, not tearing their memories out and rebuilding them-“

“I’m doing what I have to-“

“No, you’re doing what you _want_ to-“

“You came to me,” Lucifer murmured.

Everything stopped when he spoke for what Michael realized was the first time since they’d started shouting at each other. Raphael turned and tilted his head. “What?”

“My memories,” Lucifer said slowly. He looked as if he were turning something over in his mind, that same curious look that he got whenever he was examining something new or viewing a new problem. “I have them all back now. And now I can remember what I couldn’t before. Michael wasn’t the only one who came to visit me in the Cage. You came to visit me. Twice.”

Michael swung his head back around to Raphael, blinking. “You did?” he asked.

The revulsion on Raphael’s face would’ve been enough to make Michael reconsider, but…no. He wouldn’t doubt Lucifer. If Lucifer said it had happened, it had happened. “Never,” Raphael swore. “I would remember.”

“Except that’s what you told me,” Lucifer continued. He stepped towards Raphael, even as Raphael pulled out his angel blade.

“I’m warning you, Lucifer, back off. _Now_.”

Michael tensed, as did Gabriel, blades at the ready, but Lucifer kept walking. “You came the first time and were appalled at what you saw. You came back the second time with something to try and heal my dimming Grace, to offer warmth when I was so cold. And that’s when you told me you didn’t want to remember seeing me that way. You didn’t want to remember any of it. You said you were tired. And you just wanted things to go back to the way they were.”

Raphael’s face twitched as if he were in pain, but his eyes held bewilderment. Michael realized now that it was a familiar expression, one he’d seen before.

His eyes went wide. The look on Castiel’s face before Gabriel had brought him back from the brink of the reeducation. The face of almost remembering but not quite, the face of agony and turmoil.

No. No. _No_.

“You didn’t,” Michael breathed. Raphael turned to him, confusion in his eyes.

“Didn’t what?”

“You got reeducated,” Gabriel said, eyes wide. “You can’t remember a damn thing, can you? There are blank spots in your memory.”

“I would know if that were the case,” Raphael insisted. “You’re stalling and trying to distract me.”

“We’re trying to _help you_ , asshole,” Michael snapped, Dean taking over for a minute. It was getting easier and easier to be one person, with both parts merging together in harmony. “You got reeducated, just like Cas did, and you can’t remember jack. Can you?”  
“No, it’s not-“

Lucifer reached Raphael and put a hand on his shoulder. Surprisingly, Raphael let him. “I’m right here,” Lucifer said softly. “Let me help you as you tried to help me.”

The bewilderment on Raphael’s face physically hurt to see. He had no clue. He had no damn clue about any of this.

Time to clear it up. “Raph, what did Zachariah tell you?” he asked. “When he called you down just now, when he talked to you about all of this, what did he tell you?”

Raphael’s face twisted again, trying to regain any sort of equilibrium. “He said that Lucifer had broken from his bindings and was coming for all of us. That humanity had turned him against us. That you had told him, from Father, that you had to take Lucifer down, and you would cleanse us of humanity’s filth in one swipe.” He spat the word ‘humanity’ as if it were something poisonous in his mouth.

Lucifer met Michael’s gaze above Raphael’s head. _All of it was Zachariah?_

It sounded like far more than Zachariah was capable of, but he’d had a lot of time to put his plan into action. _Him and Naomi would be my guess,_ Michael sent back. _Where Naomi is, only Father knows._

Lucifer frowned. _I would imagine letting Zachariah do the dirty work here and playing human resources in Heaven. Well. Whatever passes for human resources in the realm of angels. I wonder what they call it. It’s not like they had it while I was still in Heaven._

The image made Michael grin, just for a moment. That bit of Sam, the ever curious, had definitely come from Lucifer. He was pretty sure that Sam had only made Lucifer’s insatiable need to know everything only worse.

“This whole ‘humanity is bad’ thing isn’t something I ever remember you thinking about,” Gabriel said. “You were always on humanity’s side. Hell, you helped defend humanity to the young angels whenever they were tired of humans in general.”

“Perhaps I got tired of it,” Raphael snapped. “Perhaps I’m done with humans in general. I’ve watched them be the cause of the death of hundreds of my siblings. Lucifer himself Fell because of humanity-“

“No. I was Caged because of the Mark,” Lucifer said tightly. “I Fell because I was trapped and dying. You saw that. I _know_ you were there with me twice. Just…just try to remember, Raphael.”

There was one easy way to do that. “Gabe,” Michael called, but Gabriel was already heading towards the other two. Michael put his hand first on Lucifer’s shoulder, and he felt the tension seep away. _As long as I’m around, nothing bad is gonna happen to you._ Guess Sam had taken that to heart, though he wasn’t sure it had held true. Sam had gotten killed, twisted with demon blood, nearly died several times against demons and the Horsemen with Dean right beside him-

_I was never alone._

Michael met Lucifer’s knowing gaze. _I always knew you were there. And I always knew we’d make it out together._

It gave him the strength to lay his hand on Raphael’s other shoulder. “Trust me,” Michael told me. “I need you to trust me.”

“Do I have a choice?” Raphael asked churlishly, but there was real fear in his eyes.

“To trust me? Yes. To get your memories back?” Michael made a face. “Not really.” Then he dove in.

There. Centered nearly at the core of his being. Michael felt as if he was swimming through mud instead of the light and flowing Grace that should’ve been there. How hard had he been reeducated? What had they _done_?

They’d taken his Grace and twisted it, slathered it with whatever pollution they’d wanted in his being, then shoved it all back in. It burned when he touched it, and he almost recoiled. Almost.

Lucifer and Gabriel were right beside him. _Pull it out,_ Gabriel told them. _Grab hold, don’t be gentle and dainty about it. This one looks more severe than what they did to Cassie. It’s deeper. Murkier. Cassie’s was more refined._

_They got better with it,_ Lucifer summed up angrily. _I wouldn’t be surprised if Raphael wasn’t one of the first ones they reeducated._

_With this lack of finesse? He might’ve damn well been the first one._ Gabriel sounded beyond pissed off, and Michael didn’t blame him. The murkiness was everywhere, like an oil covering anything good and pure and Raphael. Touching it was probably a stupid idea.

Michael hadn’t ever been known to always do the smart thing when family was involved, though, a trait that had continued on in Dean. _We doing this or what?_ he asked.

_Y’know, I think being Dean Winchester’s good for you, Mikey,_ Gabriel said, and Michael could feel his grin.

_Ready when you are,_ Lucifer said. Always his backup, always ready to follow.

Michael reached out and _pulled_.

Memories shot past him, of misery and loss and fear, all wound around this very huge feeling of _alone_. Raphael had been left all alone. Abandoned but always leaned on.

Bursts of Zachariah and Naomi peeked through, Zachariah being boisterous and pushy with Naomi following his lead. Of begging them for an answer, of doing anything they wanted just to not be alone.

Something that looked like a needle. Pain, so much pain, but for a moment, blessed relief because the loneliness was gone. In its place was emptiness.

Then it was filled with Zachariah’s talk about why Raphael had been abandoned, why Earth had to be extinguished. Why Michael and Lucifer would fight, why Michael wasn’t fit to lead Heaven. How Raphael was the only one they could count on in Father’s absence.

In the millisecond that they’d reached in, shared thoughts with each other, and pulled on the oil coating all of Raphael’s memories, Raphael had gone startlingly limp. It was only Lucifer’s speed that managed to catch him before he fell, long dark hair trailing against the concrete floor. Michael panted for breath and shook his hands as if looking to rid himself of the oil he hadn’t really touched. It still felt like the crap was everywhere.

“It’s gone,” Gabriel said, also panting. Lucifer carefully rested Raphael on the ground and even removed his plaid shirt to work as a makeshift pillow. It made Michael’s heart swell at the sight. “Hopefully we’ll get some real answers once he wakes up.”

“Pretty sure we got a lot of them already,” Lucifer said as he stood. He looked as angry as Michael felt. “Any chance we can go after Zachariah now? Because I’d really like to gut him. Repeatedly.”

“Yeah, not really something we can do right now. Kinda gotta deal with something else,” Gabriel said. He almost winced as he spoke.

Instantly Michael was on guard. “What’s wrong?” Gabriel making that face never ended well. He well remembered Gabriel getting into all sorts of trouble, or causing trouble, and it was usually preceded by that face.

Without saying anything Gabriel turned towards Lucifer. Lucifer stiffened even as their little brother pulled something out of his pocket. Four rings, all connected into a triangular shape.

Michael felt his very Grace tremble. The key to the Cage. He dared to glance at his little brother and found Lucifer frozen in terror. “Gabe-“

“I’ve got a plan, I’ve got this,” Gabriel rushed to tell them. He slid one of the keys onto one of his fingers. “But we gotta do it now. We already took longer with Raphael than I expected and it’s burning a hole in my pocket. Literally. Not exactly the world’s best place to put it, but…”

“Put…?” And then Michael saw it. Humming away in Gabriel’s hand as he pulled it from his jacket pocket was a symbol burned into a piece of wood. The Mark.

Gabriel flinched as he handled it. “Still hot,” he said. “Best I could do.”

“What type of wood could possibly hold it?” Lucifer sputtered. “Where the hell did you even get that?”

And in a flash, Michael knew. He knew _exactly_ where Gabriel had gotten it. “The Catulpa trees,” he breathed. Gabriel nodded tightly and tossed the piece of wood from one hand to the next, as if he were handling a hot potato. The Mark burned merrily through the wood but didn’t consume it.

“The what?”

“Trees that sprang up from our Graces in Virginia,” Michael told him. “So it’s got a part of you in it. You took it before I got the Graces.”

“For a little bit,” Gabriel warned. “It won’t hold forever. It needs something else to bind to. _Dammit_ this is hot.”

For a moment, Lucifer’s terror faded to confusion and curiosity. “You mean the Catulpa trees at Chatham Manor? The Witness trees that Whitman talked about?”

“Geek,” Michael muttered.

“See, I knew you’d appreciate it,” Gabriel said. “But less talking, more doing.”

He tossed the wood to the hand free of the rings, then grabbed hold of the rings and threw them against the wall. “Here goes,” he muttered, and he began to chant. His voice was low and guttural, and Michael could feel the power gathering around them, pulling up from the very depths of Hell and forming a connection.

Gabriel stopped and the wall imploded, bricks and concrete giving way to a dark and empty void. It howled and a wind whipped through the room, pulling them towards the hole. Towards the Cage.

Lucifer’s temporary curiosity had long been swept away by his fear, and he stood, paralyzed, trembling from head to toe. Gabriel held out his hand with the wood clutched in his grasp. “Take it!” he yelled above the noise. “Luce, take it!”

What was Gabriel _doing_? “Gabe!” Michael shouted. “What the hell?”

“You’ve got to trust me,” Gabriel pleaded. “This is going to work, I know it will! But you’ve got to get closer to the Cage! It’s got to get close enough to connect back with itself and wrap around a new part of you!”

“A new…”

Like puzzle pieces in place, Michael realized what Gabriel intended to do. Make the remnant of the Cage try to reconnect to itself through the Mark, then throw the entire kit and caboodle into the void of the Cage. Trap the Mark and the Cage firmly away.

The Mark had been a part of Lucifer for so long that it could still jump back to him at any time. And with it on the Catulpa tree piece, it had a physical embodiment of his Grace to latch on to. _Both a piece of his Grace and his being._ Just what Death had said. It was crazy and insane but just crazy enough to possibly work.

Except Lucifer wasn’t moving. Lucifer was still standing, locked into place, as far from the Mark and the Cage as possible.

Time for some big brother intervention. “Hey,” and he hurried to stand in front of Lucifer. Lucifer’s eyes went beyond him to the Cage, wide and terrified. “ _Hey_. Sammy.”

It was enough of a jolt to bring his attention back, and suddenly he had his little brother’s complete focus. “I can’t do this, Dean,” he whispered. “I can’t-“

“Yes, you can. I told you, you’re not going back there. I won’t let it happen.”

Also flying through his head was Death’s warning. _The Cage will attempt to reunite with itself and drag Lucifer back down._ So close enough that the Cage wanted to join back with itself, but not too close or it would pull Lucifer in. Pull Sam in.

“Guys!” Gabriel shouted. “ _Hurry_!”

_I’ve got you,_ he sent to Lucifer again. Lucifer shuddered but finally nodded and squared his shoulders. Now or never.

They approached slowly, the wind strong enough that Michael had to use his wings to hold himself back. Gabriel himself was way too close for his liking, but so far, he seemed steady enough just off to the side of the void.

Suddenly Lucifer stumbled forward towards the hole. Without hesitation Michael grabbed his arm and held on tight. No, not just holding, pulling back, because Lucifer hadn’t stumbled, he’d been _dragged_. The Cage felt him and wanted to take him back. Michael pulled on his Grace with everything he had and dug his heels in for good measure. It reminded him of when he’d kept Sam from becoming black dog chow a few years ago: tug-of-war at its worst.

Lucifer’s fingers dug into his arm so deeply they were sure to be taking blood, but Michael didn’t care. The only thing he cared about were hazel eyes filled with terror and the strength it was taking to hold both angels back. “Hold on!” Michael yelled.

“Take this!” Gabriel hollered, and he managed to throw the wood piece at them. Michael barely caught it. “Give it to Lucifer – he has to be the one to do it!”

“No,” Lucifer said, _pleaded_. “Please, no, I don’t want it-“

“Then take it and throw it in,” Michael told him. “You have to do this! I can’t do it for you, _you have to do this_.”

It wasn’t Lucifer in front of him now, not his strong archangel brother, but instead someone a lot tinier, a lot more breakable. A lot more human. “Sammy,” he said, and Sam tore his gaze up from the wood piece to him. He let himself become that same level of vulnerable and when he smiled, he was all Dean. “I’m not gonna leave you. I’m right here, little brother. I won’t leave you. We’re not separated, we’re together, now more than ever.”

The void seemed to go silent for a moment, and in that moment, it was just the two of them, holding on to each other, just as they always had. They wouldn’t be torn apart. No matter what happened, they’d be together. He hadn’t let it happen before, and he wouldn’t let it happen now.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said. “I’m here, Sammy.”

Sam stared at him with the widest eyes he’d ever seen. Then he took the wood piece from Dean’s hand.

The instant he took it, everything changed. Sam’s face went tight with pain and his whole body shuddered. It was just enough for the Cage to gain ground, and Dean shouted in alarm as they both slid another few feet forward. The force of the wind was enough now to almost lift them off their feet, and he desperately fought to pull them back with his wings. “ _No_!” he heard Gabriel howl.

It wasn’t going to work. They were going to get pulled in. Even now, he could feel his heels losing ground, feel his wings struggling to fight against the pull of the Cage. Sam’s eyes were still shut tight as he fought against the Mark and the Cage, and Dean had never felt so helpless in his life. “Sammy!” he shouted.

Sam slowly opened his eyes, and while there was pain there, what scared Dean was the other thing he saw: acceptance. That same determined strength he’d been proud to see a few moments ago was now the last thing he wanted to see.

“I’ve got it,” Sam said, panting for breath. “I’ve got it, Dean. It’s going to be okay.”

Then he closed his eyes and began to let go.

“NO!” Dean screamed and tightened his grasp. Sam’s eyes shot open and the fear was back.

“Dean, let go!”

“No!”

“Michael, _let go_!”

“ _No_!”

“I’ll pull you in!” he shouted.

It didn’t matter. “Then I go in!” he yelled back. Hazel eyes went impossibly wide. “I’m not leaving you again! I go where you go!”

They slid even closer. Somewhere to the side, Gabriel was screaming and trying to grab hold of Michael’s arm, but it wasn’t enough. Three archangels couldn’t hold against the Cage. The Cage remnant wasn’t letting go, and Lucifer gave a cry of pain and reached for his chest, wood piece now buried up against his heart. “Luce,” Michael whispered helplessly, eyes burning with helpless tears.

His heels gave. They slid in.

Suddenly a pair of hands caught hold around his waist just as Lucifer slid completely into the black void. “Gabriel, get behind me and grab hold, _now_!” Raphael screamed. Michael couldn’t grab back, his entire focus on Lucifer’s arm. Lucifer himself only had the one arm outside of the void, the rest of him falling sideways into the hole. Blood streamed down their combined arms as he dug and held with all his might.

Suddenly the Mark and his chest both lit up, red and blue, and a bolt of black shot down his arm to the fingers holding the piece of wood. Lucifer _screamed_ and let the wood piece go, and it flew behind him into the Cage. The hole suddenly began to close, and as a group they tumbled backwards, wings flying everywhere. Lucifer landed on top of Michael, and they lay sprawled together, panting heavily.

“Holy fucking _shit_ are you two _okay_ -“

“Michael, Lucifer, talk to me-“

Lucifer sat up first, trembling, his hands reaching for his chest. Gabriel and Raphael fell silent, and Michael watched as Lucifer’s mouth fell open, stunned. “It’s…it’s gone,” he whispered. “That, that heavy feeling in my chest, that cold, it’s gone. I’m warm.” He gave a startled laugh, then another, bordering on hysteria but it had never sounded so good in all of Michael’s life. “I’m _warm_.”

Gabriel let out a whoop and dove at him, tackling him down to the ground in a huge bear hug. Lucifer couldn’t stop laughing, huge belly laughs that he hadn’t heard from Sam in years, and Dean pulled them both into his own embrace. He shut his eyes tight and wasn’t at all surprised to feel them burn. They’d done it. _They’d done it_.

His little brother was safe.

He glanced up and found Raphael hanging off to the side, uncertainty hanging all about him. In his vessel, it made him look even smaller. “Raph,” he called, and Raphael jerked to attention. He gave a grin. “Don’t make me come drag you in. It won’t be pretty.”

“You know, I am completely capable of joining in on fun things by myself,” Raphael said, but he gave a hesitant smile. “I don’t need to be ‘dragged’ everywhere, Michael.”

“Yes you do,” and he reached out and caught Raphael’s wrist. Raphael gave a very indignant squawk and landed into the pile. There wasn’t much else for a while except laughter and whoops of joy. In the midst of the pile, Michael found his little brother and pulled him into the tightest embrace he could. His wings wrapped around them all, but one wing wrapped specifically around Lucifer. Lucifer leaned against him, fingers tight in his clothes like he’d done as a tiny Sammy, two fingers looped into a pocket.

Lucifer was right: he _was_ warm. Not a single hint of the Cage’s ice in his Grace or being. They’d done the impossible.

He took a minute to breathe in the blessed silence, surrounded by all of his brothers.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter. Please don't read the end note until you've read the chapter.

It was late when he felt the faint touch of _something_ outside. He rose from the desk and made his way to the porch. He wasn’t entirely prepared for the sight that met him.

Only two beings stood in the yard, and both of them looked so familiar. Yet they carried themselves different, stood taller, more confidently. His boys had become who they used to be, who they were meant to be.

“Hey Bobby,” Michael called, but it was all Dean Winchester in his smile. Sam’s eyes lit up, a hint of Lucifer in them, as he hurried forward and engulfed him in an embrace. He smiled and hugged him back.

“I know Michael told me,” Sam murmured, voice thick with emotion, “but seeing you alive is different. I thought…”

“I know what you thought, son,” he said kindly. “But I’m here.”

After a moment, Sam stepped back and wiped the back of his hand over his eyes. “I’m just glad you’re okay,” he said.

It had been close, but Gabriel could always be depended on. “I didn’t figure you’d be back,” he admitted. “I suppose I thought if you joined with your Graces again, you wouldn’t stay here. What all happened?”

“We got it dealt with,” Sam said, and he actually smiled. “Raphael’s okay. And the Cage remnant is gone.”

“So’s the Mark,” Dean said. “We got both of them chucked away for good.”

So they’d done it. It explained the smiles. “Where are the others?” he asked them.

That got a grimace from Sam. “Cas went to hunt down Zachariah.”

“Bastard got away, but not for long,” Dean said. “Speaking of Cas, I need to fix his connection to Heaven. Gabe’s right: I can feel that it’s broken somehow.”

“But you can fix it, right?”

“Yeah,” and Dean sounded amazed. “I actually can. Honestly, it doesn’t feel any different than fixing hoses on the car.”

Sam gave a bright grin. “Yeah, I’m sure Cas would _love_ being compared to the car.”

It was the brightest grin he’d seen on the younger man in some time. Dean grinned back, as if helpless not to, and the pure amount of _joy_ between them left him pleased.

Heartbroken, too, because he knew what was to come. Whether they understood the decision or not, they’d already made it. He wondered if the other archangels understood what their brothers had decided.

“What now?” he asked. “You have the Cage dealt with and your Graces returned. Castiel’s searching for Zachariah. There’s nothing left to do, is there?”

Dean paused. “What do you mean?”

“What will you do next? You have responsibilities now, as the archangel Michael. Heaven needs a leader without God around.”

Sam pursed his lips. “I don’t know what needs to be done next. But I can tell you that any responsibilities and obligations Michael has are done.”

That earned him a surprised look from his brother. “Sam-“

“No. I watched Dad do it to you, I’m sure as hell not watching some absent Father do it either. If he wants you at attention and doing what he wants, he can damn well show up and tell you himself.” The red flash in his eyes was clearly Lucifer, but he would’ve guessed as much, just at the tone.

“Yeah, well, I’ve got a few things to tell him, too,” Dean said, and for a moment, it wasn’t Dean Winchester but Michael, tall and imposing. “Like leaving you down in the Cage for millennia. I’d love an explanation for that.”

So would he. “Then maybe your next thing to do is find him and demand some answers,” he said. “But what will you do as archangels now?”

The following moment of silence spoke to how much the idea hadn’t really been considered. “I don’t know,” Michael confessed. “My focus sort of got stuck on Luce. But now that that’s done…”

“We don’t have to,” Lucifer said quietly. “Nothing says we have to go back to Heaven. But we both want answers. I don’t think that Zachariah could’ve done this alone.”

“Me neither,” Michael agreed. His face twisted in clear frustration. “I don’t know that I’m ready to go back to being Michael all the time, though.”

He stood back and looked both of his boys over. They were themselves, more than ever, yet more lost than he had ever seen them before. There was little he could do now, without the answers they desperately wanted. But he could do one thing at least.

“I don’t think you need to.”

Michael glanced at him. “What do you mean?” Lucifer glanced at him with a furrowed brow.

He shifted his stance on the porch and enjoyed the cool night air. Dawn would break soon, and it deserved to be a magnificent one. “I mean that you’ve done enough as Michael and Lucifer. I think you deserve to choose who you want to be. Whether that’s Michael and Lucifer, or Dean and Sam, or some combination of the two parts, I think you’ve both put in your time and should get to decide.”

He gave a wry smile. “Isn’t that what your Father was all about: free will? I’d say it’s about time you got to have some of your own.”

Michael looked almost bewildered at the idea, but Lucifer’s gaze narrowed, considering him in that knowing way of his. Always three steps ahead. Time to let them sit and think it over. He turned and headed into the house, knowing they’d follow.

_Tell them. Don’t leave ‘em like that._

True enough. “I think your Father would be all right with your deciding,” he said. “And I’m sure he’d be proud of you both. I know I am.”

With that, he headed into the kitchen. Best if he didn’t try for the coffee. He’d leave that for someone else to do, someone who knew what he was doing.

“Thank you,” he murmured. Hopefully at some point, he could give them the answers they desired. But not today.

_Not sure ‘you’re welcome’ is in order. And pretty sure I won’t remember anythin’ you did here, will I?_

“Most people would appreciate that. I did sort of come in unannounced. I apologize for that.”

_Guess I never figured that the whole ‘Holy Spirit’ thing meant, well, a spirit that could possess people. And I did pray and ask for help for them._

“You’re a good man, Robert Singer. And a good dad to them.”

_Y’know, you could be too-_

In an instant Bobby blinked and stared around his kitchen. Coffee. He’d been going to make coffee.

“Bobby?”

“In here,” he called. A moment later, Sam’s head peeked around the corner. “You boys sure you’re all right?”

“I was going to ask you that myself,” Sam said. He peered at Bobby for a moment. “You feeling okay?”

“As all right as I can be with you two tryin’ to give me heart attacks,” he said. Still, Sam looked far better than Bobby had feared, the last time he’d seen the kid. Never mind himself being dead: he’d assumed that the angels would kill Sam or worse. “Dean comin’ in or what?”

Sam still kept looking him over, enough that Bobby wondered just what he was looking for. “Got somethin’ on my face?” he asked.

“Do you remember telling me and Dean that we should get to decide what happens next?” he asked.

Well, it sounded like something he’d say. “You should,” he agreed. “Sound advice like that must’ve come from me.”

Sam pursed his lips but finally nodded. “I’ll get Dean if you get coffee,” he said. Then he paused and glanced outside. “Scratch that. I’ll get the others if you get coffee going.”

“Feathers and Featherbrain?”

“And Raphael.”

Oh. Well that was going to warrant an explanation. “Six mugs, got it. Though why I bother with Gabriel’s, I got no clue,” he muttered. He’d just make his own coffee however he pleased.

He couldn’t find it in himself to be that grumpy about it, though. The boys were all right, and the Cage wouldn’t haunt Sam anymore. And from the sounds of it, the other archangels were fine, too.

_Not sure if you heard me, but thanks if you did,_ he prayed silently. He didn’t pray often, but it was usually for his boys.

He could’ve sworn he felt a whisper of wind a moment later, but then it was gone, and he grabbed the bag of coffee grounds.

Dean was about to join the three angels that had landed in the junkyard when Sam came out, eyes burning with…something. “You all right?” he asked immediately. “Bobby all right?”

“Didn’t Bobby sound off to you?” he asked. “When we first landed?”

Which, landed. They’d flown to Bobby’s. That was never going to get old.

Still, he took a minute to think over their brief conversation. Now that he thought on it, there’d been something…different about Bobby. “He okay?” he asked.

“He’s fine now.” Sam pursed his lips. “Dean, I don’t think that was Bobby. Not really.”

Dean immediately straightened. “Possessed?”

“Yeah. But not by a demon.”

He could finally place the emotion in Sam’s eyes: hurt with some serious anger. And then it dawned on Dean just why.

It couldn’t have been. He would’ve seen it, would’ve known his Father anywhere. He might not have been Michael for a few decades but that wouldn’t have left him so completely incapable of sensing his Father.

Yet the words and language weren’t quite Bobby. And there’d been _something_ in his eyes.

Son of a _bitch_.

“He did the whole ‘Holy Spirit’ thing didn’t he?” He _hated_ when Father did that. “Is he still-“

“Gone. Took off,” Sam said in a clipped tone.

He’d been _right there_. They’d sought him, tried to find him, and what did Father do when he finally showed up?

Played divine visitation and gave them some cryptic advice before disappearing again. Bobby probably didn’t remember a damn thing either.

It made Dean want to throw something, made Michael want to take off flying and screaming into the empty nexus that was the galaxy. His fists tightened and his wings twitched angrily.

Then he glanced at his brother. Sam looked furious, but his eyes shimmered with unshed tears. Lucifer was completely lost. If Michael thought he’d been angry, it was nothing compared to how Lucifer had to feel. How _Sam_ had to feel, abandoned by another dad and left with a few conciliatory words before leaving again.

The human part of him was ready to do some damage, so Dean reached down and found the archangel part of himself. Unfortunately, that was pretty pissed off too. Guess he’d have to go with the last part of himself that could probably find some measure of calm: the big brother part.

That part was probably the angriest but at least it could manage peace in the wake of his little brother’s pain. He grabbed Sam by the arm and pulled him into a fierce embrace. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. Hot, angry tears dripped into his collar and he shut his own eyes. “I’m so damn sorry, little brother.”

“You’re here,” he heard faintly, muffled against his neck. Sam pulled back but it was Lucifer’s resigned calm that met his own gaze. “And that’s all I care about. You haven’t left.”

“Never will,” Michael promised. He clapped Lucifer on the shoulder and yanked his head to where the other three were talking in earnest. He hadn’t missed the worried looks they’d gotten, though. “C’mon. Let’s see what they’ve got.”

“Are we going to talk about how you were going to fall into the Cage with me?” Lucifer said casually, but there was definitely frustration in his eyes.

Michael met his gaze evenly. “About the same time we talk about how you were going to let go and drop yourself back in.” Which, honestly, had scared him far more than anything else. Lucifer’s resignation, the way his hand had started letting go…

The frustration faded away when Lucifer wouldn’t meet his eyes. His little brother’s wings drooped again, misery obvious. He wanted to push, wanted to demand why Lucifer had thought that his life was worth sacrificing, but he knew the answer. Just as much as he’d been willing to sacrifice himself for his brother, Lucifer had been more than ready to do the same.

With a soft sigh Michael reached out and squeezed Lucifer’s shoulder. Lucifer glanced up at him through his bangs. _I know,_ Michael told him. _I know._

Lucifer didn’t say anything, but he did stand a little straighter. For now, it would have to do.

By the time they had joined the others, Lucifer’s eyes were dry. Gabriel immediately went to him anyway and wrapped his arms around him. Lucifer held on tight. “Missed me already?” he asked, aiming for a light tone.

“Hey, listen, I waited a damn long time for that,” Gabriel said. He glanced up at Lucifer and poked him in the arm. “Just expect random hugs for a while.”

“Fair enough.” It was enough to earn a smile from Lucifer. And _that_ was enough to earn a smile from Michael. He could always count on Gabriel to bring some happiness around.

Time to figure out what happened next, but more importantly, time to sort out each of his younger brothers. He turned first to Raphael, who was no longer in a business suit, but rather a blue blouse and khaki slacks. The flats looked far more practical than the heels, but if anyone could’ve kicked ass in heels, it would’ve been his brother. It made him think back to his conversation about Gabriel in heels.

“Not gonna happen,” Gabriel said. Raphael smirked but said nothing.

“Okay, I’m not going to lie, that’s just odd,” Lucifer said. “Hearing your thoughts. And they go in the most random of places.”

Well, he _had_ been projecting pretty hard, he supposed. “Yeah, well, I notice the most random of things,” he said. “Which, speaking of noticing random things, you took your vessel home to change?”

“She has a job and duties,” Raphael said, and he clearly looked uneasy about the topic. “She’s not…my true vessel. But she’s part of the line. And she was willing to help me. I offered to leave her but she insisted that this was, and I quote, “Far more fun than the next board meeting.” So I gave her some time to set things in order and then we left again.”

“Not your true vessel? So that means-“

“I’ll burn her out,” Raphael said. “Which I’d rather not do. So I won’t use her except for the briefest of times. My place is in Heaven.”

Michael glanced over their heads at Lucifer. _Luce, do we tell them about Father?_

_Not a chance. Leave it be. We have enough to do._

Truer words were never spoken. “You’re empty-handed,” Michael said instead, glancing at Castiel.

Castiel didn’t look happy about it, either. “I managed to grab a few feathers but he disappeared somewhere around Florida. I lost him in the ocean.”

“Maybe a gator got him in the Everglades,” Michael said. Gabriel snorted. “What? It could happen.”

“And you say he’s the troublemaker,” Lucifer muttered.

“Nope, pretty sure that’s you.”

“I thought I was the trouble magnet.”

“Trouble _lure_ was the term I liked the best.”

Raphael grinned. “Heaven above I missed you two.”

“You say that now,” Gabriel said with raised eyebrows, “but wait until you’ve been around them for a while. Which I assume you will be.”

Michael met Lucifer’s gaze again. Time to fess up. “Oh _stop_ ,” Gabriel snapped. “Seriously, just talk to the rest of us.”

“They’re trying to find a way to tell us they’re staying here,” Raphael said, ever succinct. “On Earth.”

Gabriel stilled, gaze unreadable. Castiel frowned, tilting his head. “But you’re…yourselves again,” he said. “You have archangel duties. Heaven needs you.”

“I’m not sure it does, Cas,” Michael said. “I mean, we’ll be there to help clean up and keep things on track, but ultimately, well.”

It made sense in his head and his heart. This was where he was meant to be: here with Lucifer. On the Earth, protecting that which they loved.

And they were still hunters. That wasn’t going to change. They were as much Sam and Dean as they were Michael and Lucifer. They’d made their decision, and it was here.

Lucifer smiled. “I think we’re needed here more. But that doesn’t mean we’re leaving you guys alone,” he added rather pointedly at Gabriel and Raphael. “We’ll help with Heaven and undoing the reeducations.”

Raphael winced. “It’s not your fault,” Lucifer told him quietly. “I don’t blame you, none of us do. You just wanted out. I get that. I just hate that you hurt that much to warrant that as an option.”

And that ultimately fell on Michael. He’d been so focused on one of his brothers that he’d neglected the other two. Including Gabriel, who’d decided to abandon Heaven rather than face the world where his family was torn in two.

“If I’m not to blame, then you aren’t either,” Raphael said firmly. Michael slowly met his gaze and found piercing blue eyes staring him down. “We were all of us torn asunder, Michael.”

“Not anymore,” he said after a moment. “Whoever tried to tear us apart didn’t manage it. We’re all still here, and we’re together.” And they’d stay that way too. Michael would be willing to do just about anything to keep them all together.

Gabriel cleared his throat and crossed his arms. “Yeah, about that. Raph and I made a trip upstairs briefly to follow that one little angel that I let go and found that she’d run straight to Naomi. We’ve got her on lock-down until you get up there. Pretty sure whatever she says, you’re gonna want to hear.”

Oh did he ever. “I would _love_ to hear what she says. I’d love to hear from Zach, too.”

“I’ll find him,” Castiel swore. “Even if it’s the last thing I do.”

“Let’s not make that a thing,” Lucifer said, scowling. “I just got all my brothers _back_ , thanks so much. So let’s not make losing one an option.”

“Agreed. Which, on the topic of Cas…”

“I can reunite his Grace with Heaven,” Raphael promised. “That’s easy enough to heal, though it’ll take time.” He glanced at Castiel ruefully. “I’m sorry, little one.”

“You did what you had to do.” Castiel gave a small grin. “I knew what I was doing when I went to the prophet. For whatever reason you brought me back, though, I’m grateful.”

Raphael’s frown told Michael everything he needed to know. “You didn’t bring him back,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

“No,” Raphael said slowly. “Honestly, I thought _you_ had done it. The first trace of my brother in years and it’s to undo what I’d done.”

“Gabriel?” Lucifer asked.

Gabriel shook his head. “Don’t look at me. I had nothing to do with it.”

All signs pointed to someone with greater power than any of them had. Michael glared at his feet before sighing. “Right. Moving on. That’s Zachariah and Naomi, Castiel, all planned out. Am I missing anything?”

“Yeah. The demons that showed up at Gabriel’s safe house.”

“Safe house?” Raphael said, frowning. “What safe house?”

Well, that clearly put Raphael out of the running for who was responsible. “You didn’t send demons after him?” he had to ask.

“No, I didn’t. You had demons after you?”

“At least a dozen,” Gabriel told him. Raphael’s eyes went wide. “They had some Norse chains that were mean to hold Loki, not me as an archangel. I mean, it still would’ve held me for a bit, but not forever.”

“Um.”

Everyone slowly turned to Castiel. “There’s a problem with that,” Castiel said.

Of course there was. Because when Michael had intended on neatly wrapping up things with his siblings, there was really no such thing as neatly. There were disadvantages to being a Winchester, he thought wryly, mostly the Winchester luck. “Which is?” Michael asked.

Castiel paused, as if he didn’t want to say what exactly the problem was, but finally said, “The manacles that the demons intended to use on Gabriel. They have ancient Norse runes in them, powerful ones.”

“And?”

“…there are small Enochian sigils inside,” he finished, voice quiet and still. “Not large enough to see well, but powerful enough to bind an archangel for a time.”

Gabriel froze. Lucifer stepped closer to him, his eyes like fire. “Whoever sent those demons knew that Gabe was an archangel?” Michael asked, stunned.

Castiel nodded. “I meant to tell you earlier. I touched the inside of them when I brought them back here and felt the sigils with my fingers.”

Someone had known that Loki was Gabriel. Somehow, someone had put the pieces together and had gone to great lengths to capture him.

“Well, that’s great,” Gabriel said with a weak laugh. Lucifer’s one wing extended to a halfway point, muscle tight and strong behind Gabriel: defensive posture. Michael closed in on Gabriel’s other side, fury pumping through his veins. Somehow, Gabriel seemed even smaller, and his wings pulled tight against him made him smaller still. It made Michael want to wrap all six of his wings around his youngest brother and pull his blade out for good measure.

Whatever they wanted with him, they’d have to go through them first.

“Do you think Zachariah could’ve done it?” Castiel said. His wings slid, one right over the other, in a restless state. “He was intent on making archangel status. Maybe he wanted Gabriel’s spot.”

“He had no clue that Gabriel was Gabriel, though,” Lucifer pointed out. “He thought he was Loki. No, someone else had to have done the manacles.”

“I made it clear to him that Gabriel’s place would never be fulfilled by another,” Raphael said. He winced a little. “Unfortunately, I wasn’t willing to make the same argument for you, bright one.”

Lucifer smiled at the endearment and just shook his head. “It’s not a big deal, don’t worry about it. You were practically possessed, Raph.”

“Still, I’m as concerned about something happening to you as I am Gabriel,” Raphael said emphatically. Michael didn’t miss the clenched fists or the flare of Grace in Raphael’s eyes. “And while you can both handle yourselves, the idea of Zachariah coming for your archangel status is one that leaves me sick. Never mind the idea of Gabriel captured with angel sigils.”

The group went quiet at the revelation. Raphael wasn’t the only one feeling sick. And here Michael had thought they’d actually gotten everything squared away.

Gabriel finally cleared his throat. “Not anything we’ll get done today. And I, for one, want coffee with a liberal amount of alcohol after _that_ bombshell. If you’re going to stay down here and be human – well, archangel-infused humans – I’d say that calls for a drink of some sort. Celebratory or whatever.”

“What are _you_ doing?” Raphael asked. “Because someone needs to help guide and govern Heaven. Gabriel-“

“Oh, no. Hell no. I was responsible for a little while watching out for these two and it was a hot mess. Not doing it again.”

“Actually, I think you should take the reins, Raphael,” Michael said. “I think you’d be perfect for it, if you wanted it.”

Raphael’s eyes went wide. “ _Me_? Michael, I’d be horrible at it, I didn’t ever really want to take your place-“

“Heaven needs healing, Raph,” Lucifer said quietly. “And I don’t know anyone better.”

It wasn’t often that he got to see Raphael so blown away, but it was clear that his brother didn’t know what the hell to do with that. “I,” he began, voice higher-pitched than ever before, and then he stopped.

“If you don’t want to, you don’t have to,” Michael said gently. “But I gotta say, Luce’s right. There’d be no one better fitted for the job.”

“And we’re going to help,” Lucifer said. “We’re not just going to hide down here on Earth. We’re coming back with you.”

“You’re just not staying,” Raphael said. His smile was sad but still warm. “I understand. And I think you’re making the right decision. Well, about yourselves. I don’t know about me.”

One brother down. Michael glanced at Gabriel and Castiel. “What about you two?”

“He’s staying with us,” Lucifer said firmly, and his arm went around Gabriel’s shoulders. “He knows best about being an angel on Earth and how to hide your angel status. We’re going to need him.” And it was clear that Lucifer still wasn’t over the whole news about the manacles.

Neither was Michael, honestly. “Agreed.”

“Wait a minute,” Raphael said. “I’m going to need a messenger in order to help and to keep track of you both. I’m going to need Gabriel far more than you two.”

Finally Gabriel let out a laugh. “All right, all right! You know, I can probably do both.” Still, his cheeks were pink with an almost embarrassed pleasure. “Way to make an angel feel good, though.”

Two down. “Cas?”

Castiel bit his bottom lip, and it was such a human thing to do that for a moment, all Michael could do was grin at him fondly. “I don’t know,” he finally said. “I guess that wasn’t the answer you were looking for.”

“We weren’t looking for any particular answer,” Lucifer told him. “Just whatever you want to do, Cas.”

After a moment, the young angel glanced at Raphael. Raphael raised an eyebrow but smiled. “Of course, Castiel. I may need your help from time to time.”

“And you’ll have it,” he promised. “But like Michael and Lucifer, I think that my time is best…well. Here.”

He glanced at them, and Michael nodded. “Welcome to the Earthly Angels Team,” he said.

“Okay, no,” Lucifer said, shaking his head. “You’re not allowed to name anything ever again.”

“What?”

Gabriel wrinkled his nose up as if he’d bitten into something vile. “That was horrible, Mikey.”

“It was _not_ horrible!”

“Wretched,” Raphael agreed.

Even Castiel winced and shook his head. Assholes, all of them. “Fine. You do better.”

“Team Free Will?”

Lucifer’s voice led to a thoughtful silence. “I like it,” Michael said at last. “Though mine’s still just as good.”

“No it’s not.”

“Yes it is.”

“Dean! Sam! You boys comin’ in for your cold cup of coffee or what?”

He glanced at his little brother who just grinned at him. Safe, alive, _free_. It was more than he could’ve hoped for, and for a minute, all he wanted was to revel in what they’d done. That Luce was free and whole. That they’d done the impossible and were still standing.

“I’ll warm it up,” Gabriel called. “Hold your horses, Singer.”

“I don’t _have_ horses,” Bobby hollered back. “And I don’t want any, so knock that idea right outta your head.”

Gabriel all but pouted as he headed inside. Raphael went with him, Castiel tagging along beside him, and Castiel almost looked amused as Raphael’s eyes took in Bobby’s house for the first time. It’d been some time since he’d been down to Earth, and apparently Castiel was enjoying the chance for someone else to be amazed by humanity for a bit. This time, Michael would make sure that he didn’t get stuck up alone in Heaven.

The junkyard went silent around them as the three angels disappeared into the house. Alone now with his little brother, it allowed him a chance to take a deep breath. The night sky began to crack into dawn, and the sunrise looked to be a beautiful one over the hills.

“What first?” he heard murmured from beside him. Just a simple question with an even simpler promise behind it. _I go where you go._

It was more than he deserved, honestly. There were still sins he felt he owed time for. The panic room. Not fighting harder against Father, or Dad for that matter, when it counted. Letting things get so torn between them that Sam had believed that voicemail for even a second.

Yet here he was, willing to follow his big brother no matter where the path went.

“You going to stay down here with me?” he asked. “Because I mean, it’s been a long time since you got to be in Heaven.”

Lucifer took a deep breath in and closed his eyes. “It’ll be nice to go back,” he agreed. When he opened his eyes, they were hazel and familiar. “But at the risk of sounding corny, home is where you are. Jerk.”

Slowly he smiled. “Bitch,” he said, and he let himself be Dean again. Sam smiled at him, whole and healthy and _there_ , and it was better than he’d let himself hope. Everything had been stacked against them for so long, but now they were in the clear.

Well. Mostly in the clear. He let out a deep sigh. “Coffee first. Then helping Raphael get Heaven sorted and restarted.”  
“And finding Zachariah?” Sam guessed.

Dean couldn’t help the flare of Grace at that. “Yeah. Zach’s high on my list of things to sort out,” he said darkly. “As well as what really happened with Heaven, this supposed ‘prophecy’ of you and me killing each other, and who came after Gabe.”

Sam’s own eyes flashed with anger, but he nodded. “And Father?”

“So not on the list,” Dean said firmly. “I got other fish to fry. He wants to show up again, then that’s one thing. But until then, I’m not gonna spend decades looking for him.” No, he’d done that with both dads, and he wasn’t interested in doing it again. At least Bobby hadn’t left them.

Speaking of the man, Dean could see him glancing out into the junkyard. Making sure they were both okay, and it made him smile. Coffee. Then the rest. “C’mon, Sammy,” he said. “Let’s go.”

_Together?_ Sam couldn’t seem to help asking, his True Voice quiet but still harmonic.

Dean smiled. _Always, little brother._

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, there's a lot of loose ends that are still dangling. Yes, this is the final chapter. Yes, there's going to be more.
> 
> There are other fics that'll come first before the sequel, and I need time to let this sit so I can start working on the next part. But there will be more, so make sure you're following me for future new fics and future old fics being reposted.
> 
> Thank you all so much for all of the comments, the kudos, and the love you've shown this fic! I feel super spoiled in everything y'all have shared with me.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [We've Got You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22551250) by [GreenRogue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenRogue/pseuds/GreenRogue)




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